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JOE IN CAPTIVITY. 




LITTLE JOE 



Author of 

Ten Weeks with a Circus 
Toby Tyler 
Mr. Stubbs’ Brother 
and others 



copyright ^ 

$F P 141888 
U 67 £ > 

^SHINGTO^' ^ 


BOSTON 

D LOTHROP COMPANY 


FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS 


Copyright, 1888 

BY 

D. Lothrop Company. 


Il- 3/f0O 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

A HOMELESS GUARDIAN . 

CHAPTER II. 

AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK 

CHAPTER III. 

IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE PUNISHMENT 

CHAPTER V. 

PROMISED AID 

• CHAPTER VI. 

TOO LATE . 

CHAPTER VII. 

A DESPERATE ATTEMPT . 

CHAPTER VIII. 

AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE ARRIVAL 


Pagb 

7 

24 

40 

56 

72 

88 

103 

120 

136 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER X. 

TONIO’s RESCUE 1 52 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE INVALID 169 

CHAPTER XII. 

joe’s letter 184 

CHAPTER XIII. 

AT THE FARM 205 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE VISITORS 227 


LITTLE JOE 


CHAPTER I. 

A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 

“Say, be you a doctor?” 

It was a small, oddly-dressed boy who 
asked this 'question of a burly, red-faced 
veterinary surgeon on Twenty-fifth Street 
near Third Avenue ; and probably the visi- 
tor would have been turned away with a 
very gruff answer but for the look of anx- 
iety in the brown eyes, which seemed un- 
naturally large because of his thin face. 

“ If you should go round the corner an’ 
ask some of the swells who have big door- 
plates, I reckon they’d tell you that a vet. 
didn’t know anything about doctorin’,” the 
man replied, as he gazed first at the boy’s 
7 


8 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


face and then at a suspicious-looking lump 
under the curiously patched coat which hid 
from view every portion of the visitor save 
his head, hands and feet. 

“S’posen a feller should get his legs broke, 
couldn’t you fix ’em up agin ? ” the boy 
asked, as he tried in vain to still that which 
caused the front of his coat to move in a 
most singular manner. 

“ If a horse that was worth the trouble 
should get his leg broke I could set it, but 
what do you mean by asking these ques- 
tions, and what have you got there ? Speak 
up quick, for I can’t spend much time fool- 
ing with a customer like you.” 

“ It’s a dog what got run over by a ’xpress 
wagon,” the boy replied, as he unbuttoned 
the ancient and ill-fitting garment, exposing 
to view a small brown terrier, who yelped 
with pain when he was thus forced to change 
his position. 

“Both legs broken, eh?” the surgeon said, 
after a hasty glance. “ The best thing you 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


9 


can do is to tie a stone to his neck and 
throw him overboard.” 

“ I don’t want to do that, ’cause, you see, 
he acted jest like he knew I’d look out for 
him when the boys were going to stone him 
to death, an’ as I picked him up he stopped 
whinin’ right away.” 

“ That was because he knew you; it would 
be a poor kind of a dog who wouldn’t recog- 
nize his master.” 

“ But I never saw him before. He was 
lyin’ in the street with the fellers throwin’ 
things at him when I came along,” and the 
boy patted the suffering animal’s head as if 
to say he would continue to protect him. 

“ Where do you live ? ” the surgeon asked 
almost sharply, as he examined more criti- 
cally the condition of his dumb patient. 

“I — well, you see — that is, I’m stoppin’ 
down near the ferry that goes over to Hunter’s 
Point.” 

“ Oh ! you sleep around wherever you can 
get the chance, eh ? ” 


IO 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


“Yes, sir; that's about the way of it,” the 
boy replied meekly. “ I’ve fixed up a pretty 
fair stand where I sell papers mornin’s an’ 
nights. If business keeps on same’s it is 
now, an’ the other fellers what owe me have 
good luck, I’ll soon get money enough to 
buy a reg’lar place down near Grand Street.” 

“ What are you going to do with this dog 
if I set the broken bones ? ” 

“ I’ll keep him ’round there somewhere. 
P’rhaps they’ll give me a box over to the 
grocery store, an’ he couldn’t want anything 
better’n that. Say, how much will you 
charge ? ” 

“ My fee would be five dollars for such a 
job as that from anybody else ; but seein’s 
how you ain’t likely to be overburdened 
with cash, I’ll do it for a dollar.” 

By this time the surgeon was making 
ready the splints and bandages, and did not 
see the troubled look which came over the 
boy’s face ; but he turned quickly as his visi- 
tor said in a stammering, hesitating way: 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. I I 

“Wouldn’t — I mean, can — say, if I’ll give 
you ten cents down, an’ bring five every day 
till it’s all paid, won’t you mend him ? ” 

“ I thought you said business was so good 
you were thinking of buying a regular 
stand ? ” 

“Yes; but Tom Brady’s sister’s sick, an’ I 
lent him eighty cents this morning, so I’m 
pretty near broke now, but I’ll pay you right 
up square every day.” 

“ Do you think you can afford to throw 
away so much money on a dog that isn’t 
worth a cent more than his hide would 
bring?” 

“ I don’t s’pose he is a very nice one, else 
his master wouldn’t a’ left him when he got 
run over; but he looks like a poor, lonesome 
little feller, same’s I am, an’ we’d feel kinder 
nice bein’ good to each other.” 

Once more the red-faced man looked down 
sharply at the boy, and then he began his 
surgical work, as he asked in a gruff voice : 

“ What’s your name ? ” 


12 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


“Joe Morgan. The fellers call me Little 
Joe ’cause I ain’t got much size yet, an’ I 
guess a good many of ’em don’t know I own 
any other name. I’ll bring you the money 
every day till the dollar’s paid.” 

“ Haven’t you got any relatives ? ” 

“ I ain’t had none since Jack Greely’s 
mother died. Say, here’s the ten cents,” 
and Joe laid the money where the surgeon 
could not fail to see it. 

“ Haven’t you a mother of your own? ” the 
man asked without paying any attention to 
the coin, and the boy pushed it further 
across the desk as he replied : 

“ Not one. Jack’s father said I must a’ 
had somebody what belonged to me ; but I 
don’t know anything about it. Are you 
goin’ to do the job on trust ? ” 

“ Can’t you see that I’m working at it 
now ? I shall expect you to come here with 
the cash every morning.” 

“ I won’t skip one if I can help it. How 
long will it be before he can walk ? ” 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


13 


“ In a couple of months he’ll be all right. 
Don’t give him any meat; keep him in a 
cool place, and feed him mostly on bread 
and milk. Where did you get that coat? ” 

“ I traded two horseshoes I found, with the 
junk-man on Thirtieth Street. It’s pretty 
big, but it’ll come in handy when the 
weather gets colder.” 

During this conversation the dog remained 
perfectly quiet, as if he knew exactly what 
was being done, and whenever Joe caressed 
him he would lick his hands in token of 
gratitude. 

“ Perhaps he ain’t worth very much,” the 
boy said, as he stood on tiptoe to kiss the 
cripple’s nose, “but it’ll be nice to have 
somebody to love a feller in the night when 
it’s cold an’ lonesome.” 

“ I should think you’d have plenty of com- 
pany,” the surgeon said as he looked around 
again very quickly, and spoke even more 
gruffly than before. “ It seems to me some- 
times as if there were more boys than paving 


14 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


stones in the street, and I can’t make out 
why you lack for chums.” 

“ Neither can I,” Joe said mournfully as 
he pressed the dog’s nose to his cheek. 
“ They think I’m a sissy an’ a sneak, but I 
ain’t, an’ the most of ’em don’t like me very 
well.” 

“ The fellow to whom you lent the money 
don’t call you such names, does he ? ” 

“ Oh, no; there’s five or six that are friends 
of mine, but they mostly all have mothers, 
’cept Si Hodgdon, an’ he’s got a sister, so 
when it comes night I don’t have anybody 
to go with. I’ll be all right if this dog gets 
well, an’ his owner don’t come for him.” 

“ If that happens send the man to me, and 
I’ll charge so much for this job that it won’t 
be worth while to claim him. I reckon he’s 
all right now, and you had better take him 
away. What’s his name ? ” 

“ I’ll call him Doctor, I guess,” Joe replied, 
as he pushed the ten-cent piece yet nearer 
the surgeon, “an* then both of us will be 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


15 


sure to remember how good you was to trust 
us for the rest of the money.” 

There was no further opportunity for the 
boy to give words to his gratitude. At that 
moment the surgeon was summoned to more 
valuable four-footed patients, and Joe left 
the office after having once more hidden 
Doctor under his ample coat. 

It was impossible to run without causing 
the cripple pain ; but Joe walked at the best 
possible speed toward the ferry, for it was 
nearly time for Slip Johnson, who brought 
him the evening papers. 

Slip — no one seemed to know why such 
a nickname should have been given to a boy 
who was christened Walter — was also in 
the news business. He sold papers in the 
vicinity of the ferry, but did not confine 
himself to any particular locality. Three 
months previous he had taken as much 
pleasure in teasing the small, delicate-look- 
ing boy who was trying to establish a news- 
stand in the corner of a lumber-yard, as any 


1 6 A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 

of his companions ; but he lost all zest for 
such sport one evening when he fell from 
the pier and no one save Joe had the cour- 
age to make an attempt at saving him. 
When it was seen that Slip was partially 
unconscious — his head having struck the 
string-piece — Joe leaped in without hesita- 
tion while the remainder of the party were 
in a state of helpless bewilderment, and by 
dragging the drowning boy to the founda- 
tion piles, succeeded in keeping his head 
above the surface until the others could pull 
him out. 

After that, Slip did all he could to show 
that his enmity had been swallowed up by 
friendship, and, among other kindly acts, 
brought regularly from down-town the stock 
in trade for the lumber-yard stand. 

Master Johnson had not yet arrived when 
Joe reached his place of business, and there 
was evidently sufficient time in which to 
provide Doctor with a bed before the even- 
ing work could be commenced. 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


17 


“ I’m goin’ to let you have my coat for 
awhile, old fellow,” he said, as he laid the 
dog tenderly under a sheltering board, and 
proceeded to make a bed by pushing the 
dilapidated garment in a small recess formed 
by the timbers, and entirely hidden from 
view of those on the street, where he usually 
spent the night. 

After placing the dog on this, and being 
as he thought, fully rewarded for the atten- 
tion when the cripple licked his hands, he 
went to the grocery store for a penny’s 
worth of milk. The proprietor not only 
gave him a tomato can in which Doctor’s 
food might be kept, but was so generous as 
to let him make his choice of a kennel from 
among a quantity of empty boxes. 

Joe was yet feeding the patient when 
Slip arrived with the evening’s stock of 
papers, and, as a matter of course, was 
introduced to Doctor, who looked so help- 
less as he lay on a bed of paper in a box, 
with both hindlegs swathed in bandages, 


1 8 A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 

that the visitor’s sympathy was immediately 
aroused. 

“ He don’t look like sich a awful swell 
dog,” Slip said, after a critical examination 
of the patient, “ but he’ll make a good 
pardner fer yer when he gets well. I’ll 
come down an’ see him agin after business 
is over, an’ I’ll ask mother to give me some 
bread, so’s he can have plenty to eat.” 

There was really no time for any further 
conversation. The afternoon papers were 
already in demand, and during the next 
two hours the lumber-yard newsdealer was 
so busy that he could pay little or no atten- 
tion to his crippled partner. 

It was just as the last copy had been sold, 
and Joe was making ready to go across the 
street for supper, that Si Hodgdon stalked 
in front of the board-pile, standing there 
silent and motionless, as if he had come 
simply for the purpose of being admired. 

There could be no question but that he 
was dressed in his very best, and Joe looked 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


19 


at him in open-mouthed astonishment before 
it was possible to speak. 

Si wore a remarkably short coat, which 
was so tight across the shoulders that he 
could hardly raise his arms, and a collar so 
tall that it seemed positive it would cut his 
chin if he attempted to look at his feet! 
The remainder of his wardrobe, however, 
was decidedly shabby, and that he was 
aware of the fact could be seen as he held 
his hat in such a manner as to hide the 
largest hole in his trousers. 

“ Well, you are fine ! ” Joe exclaimed. 
“ What’s the matter ? Goin’ to take a trip 
for your health, an’ come to say good-by ? ” 

“ I am goin’ away, an’ that’s a fact. I’ve 
struck a chance on one of them big steamers 
that run to Cuba, an’ I’ve got to be on 
board to-night, sure. Can’t you see to Alice 
for me, an’ get Granny Tousey to take care 
of her? I’ll pay a dollar a week for her 
board, an’ here’s fifty cents down.” 

Si laid the coin on the stand in front of 


20 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


Joe, and turned away as if his business was 
ended, when his friend asked, as a shade of 
perplexity came over his face : 

“ Why don’t you let her stay where she 
is ? ” 

“ Uncle Dick an’ his wife fight so much 
that I don’t dare to,” Si said, moving off as 
if every second of time was precious just 
then. “ They’ve both gone away now, an’ 
she’s all alone in the house exceptin’ you’ll 
come after her. I’ve got a chance to earn 
twenty dollars a month, an’ I’ll lose it if I 
ain’t on board before seven o’clock. You see 
to her till I get back, an’ I’ll square things.” 

Si turned, as he ceased speaking, and 
darted up the street at full speed, giving no 
heed to Joe’s cries, even if he heard them, 
for it was half-past six, and it would be 
necessary to exert himself to the utmost in 
order to keep the appointment upon which 
he believed so much depended. 

Joe picked up the coin and started in | 
pursuit; but by the time he arrived at the 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


21 


corner Si was lost to view amid the throne: 
of pedestrians, and he halted, while the 
look of perplexity on his face deepened 
into one of positive distress. 

“ Why couldn’t he a’ waited till I told him 
I didn’t have fifty more cents to pay the first 
week’s board ? He knows Granny Tousey 
won’t let her come without she gets the 
money right up sharp.” 

Then he walked slowly back towards the 
lumber-pile as if convinced that he could 
do nothing ; but a single thought of the 
tiny little girl was sufficient to make him 
retrace his steps very rapidly. 

“Si’s gone off thinkin’ I could fix things,” 
he said with a sigh, “ an’ it won’t do to leave 
her there alone even if I don’t know how 
to settle it. With Doctor an’ Alice both to 
take care of I’ll have my hands full.” 

Ten minutes later he was at the house 
where Si and his dwarfed sister had found 
the poorest apology for a home, and there 
found Alice awaiting his coming. 


22 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


She was a tiny girl, hardly more than half 
as tall as Joe, although she was but two years 
younger ; yet the life of deprivation she had 
led caused her to look much older, and 
there was something so winning, and at the 
same time so sad in her face, as she sat 
patiently on her small bundle of clothing 
in the cheerless room, that Joe had not the 
courage to tell her how difficult it would be 
for him to do as Si proposed. 

“ Where’s all the furniture gone,” he asked, 
as he looked around in surprise. 

“ Uncle Dick sold it when he went on the 
last spree,” she said, taking up her small 
bundle, as if to show that she was ready to 
go with him. 

“ Haven’t you had anything to sleep on 
since ? ” 

“ There was a piece of carpet in here last 
night ; but now this room has been let to 
the woman who keeps the fruit stand, and 
somebody took it away this morning.” 

“ Well,” Joe said with a sigh, “ things 


A HOMELESS GUARDIAN. 


23 


can’t be much worse wherever we find a 
chance for you to stay, an’ we’ll go off now, 
’cause it’s pretty near dark.” 

And the two children, one confiding most 
implicity in the other, went out into the 
streets where the evening shadows were 
lengthening into night, to search for that 
which is most difficult to find in this selfish 
world — a home. 


CHAPTER II. 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 

Alice did not appear to think that her 
brother was heedless regarding her welfare 
in going away without making other pro- 
vision for her comfort than that comprised 
in his hurried appeal to Joe. 

Si had cared for his dwarfed sister from 
the time they were orphaned, nearly two 
years previous, and it was his eagerness to 
take advantage of what seemed like a 
wonderful opportunity for earning money, 
that caused him to appear as if he felt but 
little affection for the tiny girl who had 
no relative save him. He knew that Joe 
was always ready to assist others, for never 
had a boy applied to him in vain for aid 
even though he oftentimes suffered because 
of his generosity, and the idea that his friend 


24 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


25 


might not have any money just at that 
particular moment never once entered Si’s 
mind. 

“Are we going down to Granny Tou- 
sey’s?” Alice asked, when Joe had walked 
very slowly for several moments without 
speaking. 

“ I s’pose it might be tried,” he said, hesi- 
tatingly ; “ but I haven’t got a whole dollar, 
an’ I’m afraid she won’t let you come there 
if we don’t pay for a week’s board at the 
start.” 

“ Didn’t Si have enough money ? ” And 
now Alice began to look alarmed, for she 
knew by sad experience of the slight value 
attached to promises in such a bargain as it 
was proposed to make with Granny Tousey. 

“ He only gave me fifty cents, an’ didn’t 
stay for me to tell him that I hadn’t any 
’cept what is to pay for the mornin’ papers. 
But I’ll spend that if we can’t do any bet- 
ter,” he added quickly, as he saw the trouble 
in her face. 


26 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


“ You mustn’t.” And he felt the little 
hand close more tightly over his slender 
fingers. “ The stand couldn’t be kept open 
to-morrow if the money was used to-night.” 

“ Some of the boys might pay what they 
owe me,” he said, trying very hard to speak 
cheerfully. “ Anyway, we’ll see what Granny 
has to say ’bout it before we begin to feel 
bad.” 

Then, as a means of diverting her mind 
from sad thoughts, he spoke of Si’s bril- 
liant prospects, pictured his arrival fairly 
laden down with money, and described such 
a home as her brother could give her in the 
future. After this subject was exhausted he 
told of Doctor’s accident and adoption, and 
by the time all these particulars had been re- 
lated they were at the door of Mrs. Tousey’s 
not very inviting-looking dwelling. 

The old lady was at home ; but not in a 
pleasant mood as they learned immediately 
after stating the reason for their visit. 

“ The best of children are a sight of 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


27 


trouble, an’ I’d about made up my mind 
not to take any more,” she said, in an ill- 
natured tone ; “ but if you’re ready to pay 
me two weeks’ board in advance I might be 
persuaded.” 

Joe began in a timid, hesitating way to 
explain that they could only give one quar- 
ter of the amount that evening; but, before 
he had time even to promise that the re- 
mainder should be paid as soon as it was 
earned, she interrupted him by asking 
angrily : 

“ What did you come around here for 
bothering me when you haven’t got so 
much money as would buy one dinner ? 
I’ve lost enough already takin’ paupers to 
board, an’ I’ll have no more of it.” 

“Come away,” Alice whispered; “I’d go 
anywhere rather than stay here.” 

Perhaps even Joe was afraid that the now 
thoroughly angry Mrs. Tousey might inflict 
some punishment upon them for their 
temerity in disturbing her; and, after vainly 


28 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


trying to check the flow of reproachful 
words by an apology, he hurried away with 
Alice clinging tightly to his hand, stopping 
not in what was a veritable flight until they 
were at the lumber-yard news-stand. 

“ What’s the matter now ? ” a voice cried 
from amid the shadows of the boards, and 
the question was accompanied by a low 
whistle of astonishment as Slip Johnson 
stepped out from Doctor’s hiding-place in 
front of the fugitives. “ What er ye goin’ 
to do with her ? ” 

In the fewest possible words Joe explained 
how it was that his homeless family had 
been thus suddenly increased, and con- 
cluded by asking: 

“ Do you know of any place where she can 
stay to-night? I’ll hunt ’round to-morrow, 
but it’s so late now that I can’t tell what to 
do with her.” 

Slip thought it necessary to first explain 
why he had invaded the privacy of his 
friend’s home, by saying that he had come 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


29 


to bring the cripple some bread, and then 
he rubbed his nose vigorously as a first and 
necessary step toward solving the problem. 

“ P’rhaps mother might let her stay one 
night,” he said, after spending some moments 
in deep reflection. “ S’pose we take her up 
there an’ see ? ” 

“ Can’t I sleep here,” Alice asked, timidly. 
“ I’d rather than have anybody scold us 
because we haven’t got money enough to 
pay the board.” 

“ Mother won’t fly out same’s Granny 
Tousey did,” Slip said, confidently, and Joe 
added in a decided tone : 

“ You couldn’t sleep in a pile of boards 
same as if you was a feller; of course not. 
We’ll try it up to Slippey’s house, an’ I’m 
most sure his mother will let you stay.” 

Alice could make no further objections to 
the plan, although she would have much 
preferred to sit on the curbstone all night 
rather than take the chances of another 
refusal, and the party set off after Joe satis- 


30 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


fied himself that Doctor was not in need of 
any immediate attention. 

The dog had already learned to recognize 
the boy who was so kind to him, and the 
violent wagging of his tail showed plainly 
that he was grateful, or, at least, his new 
master interpreted it in that way. 

On arriving at Slippey’s home it was some 
moments before Joe could make known the 
reason for his visit, owing to Mrs. Johnson’s 
surprise at seeing such a tiny girl, and 
the many questions she asked ; but when the 
good woman did finally understand the con- 
dition of affairs, all trouble was at an end for 
the time being. 

“ The child shall stay with me until you 
can find her a home,” she said so heartily 
that there could be no question but that 
Alice would be made welcome. “ If I hadn’t 
so many of my own she might board here ; 
but we are terribly crowded now, and it will 
be better for her to go where she can have 
more comforts.” 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


3 1 


Joe tried to induce her to take at least 
half the money Si had given him ; but she 
positively refused to accept anything, and 
he left the house feeling quite happy, for he 
was certain he could readily find Alice a 
home as soon as he had money enough to 
pay one week’s board in advance. 

Slip walked with him to the lumber-yard, 
and after a brief call upon the invalid, took 
his leave of both for the night with the 
promise to “ look in ” before going down- 
town in the morning. 

Joe had had no supper, and it was now 
too late to get any. Going hungry to bed 
was not such an unusual occurrence as to 
cause him much inconvenience, however, 
and when he laid down on the hard boards 
with his hand on the dog’s head he consoled 
himself with the thought that, owing to this 
deprivation, he could afford to buy a fifteen- 
cent breakfast at a restaurant next morning. 

“We are pretty lucky fellers, Doctor,” he 
whispered, “’cause we’ve got a good place to 


32 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


stay in till cold weather, an’ we won’t have 
to live alone. It was awful lonesome here 
some nights, and I used to get kinder fright- 
ened ; but we’ll be company for each — ” 

The sound of voices near the lumber pile 
caused him to cease speaking, and cover the 
dog’s nose with his hand while he listened 
to a conversation, the first words of which 
alarmed him greatly. 

“ He’s been ’round here long enough 
spoilin’ our trade, an’ I’m goin’ to serve him 
out so bad that he’ll be glad to leave.” 

There could be no mistaking that voice. 
Joe knew Bill Dunham was the speaker, 
and that he was the one referred to, for Bill 
had threatened many times to drive him 
away from the particular streets in which 
he and his friends claimed to have tl^e 
especial rights to sell papers. 

The listener also knew that among the 
newsboys of the city there existed at least a 
tacit understanding regarding certain rights 
which accrued to those who first started 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


33 


business in the different localities, and he 
had been regarded as an interloper more 
than a year ago when he opened the stand. 
Both Slip Johnson and Si Hodgdon were 
recognized as having a right to sell papers 
in the vicinity of the ferry, and after they 
learned to have a sincere affection for the 
little fellow, who was always so ready to 
help others, they insisted that he should be 
allowed to remain at the lumber-yard. Bill 
Dunham and a few of his particular friends, 
however, openly threatened to drive “ Sneaky 
Joe ” away, and there could be no question 
but they had decided on carrying their threats 
into execution at this time when Si was no 
longer where he could lend any aid. 

“ Will we go right in an’ snake him out?” 
Joe heard one of the party ask, and Bill 
replied : 

“ He might tumble the boards over on us. 
We'll get a lot of rocks, an’ I guess it won’t 
be long before he’ll show up, for I can put 
every one right into his den.” 


34 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


Joe was thoroughly ' alarmed now, for if 
his enemies should send a volley of stones 
into the lumber -pile, Doctor might be hit, 
in which case he would undoubtedly make 
his presence known by yelping, and that 
would seal his fate, for Bill thoroughly en- 
joyed torturing an animal. 

“ If I stay here they’ll find out about the 
poor little fellow, an’ be sure to kill him,” 
Joe said to himself. “ They won’t come in 
when I’m outside, an’ if I let them pound 
me Doctor don’t stand so much chance of 
gettin’ hurt.” 

It was not a pleasant thing to go among 
a party of boys who had come for the sole 
purpose of giving him a severe flogging, 
but Joe never hesitated after deciding that 
the dog was in danger, and before his ene- 
mies had gathered the materials with which 
to make the attack he was on the sidewalk, 
running rapidly toward Second Avenue. 

With loud shouts of triumph Bill led his 
friends in the pursuit, and the chase was 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


35 


speedily ended, for Joe was not strong 
enough to make much of a race. 

“ You can’t sneak off like that,” Bill said, 
as he caught him by the throat, pulling him 
roughly to the ground, and in another in- 
stant the entire party had gathered around 
the half-stunned boy. 

“ Take what money he’s got before you 
pound him,” some one suggested, and those 
who were nearest the prisoner complied at 
once. 

Joe realized that he was being robbed, 
and knew he could do nothing to prevent 
it ; but when, after searching all his pockets, 
the half-dollar Si had left for Alice was 
found, he struggled more desperately than 
ever. 

“ That ain’t mine,” he cried, trying un- 
successfully to take it from Bill. “ It be- 
longs to Si’s sister Alice, an’ if she don’t 
have it to-morrow she can’t pay for her 
board.” 

“ If Si Hodgdon was sich a fool as to let 


36 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


you keep his money, he oughter lose it,” 
Bill said scornfully, as he put the coin in 
his pocket, and then, seizing Joe by the 
hands, held him firmly, despite his struggles. 
“ We’re going to pound you now for snoopin’ 
’round where you don’t belong, an’ if you 
ever show your head near this ferry agin 
we’ll jest about kill you. Go on, fellers, I’ll 
hold him so’s he can’t git away.” 

Joe believed the flogging would surely be 
administered, and he shut his lips hard that 
no cry of pain should escape, while as a 
slight means of enabling him to bear the 
punishment silently he kept his mind fixed 
on the fact that as yet none of the party 
knew of Doctor’s whereabouts. 

“ Go on, give it to him hot ! ” Bill cried ; 
but before the order could be obeyed some 
one shouted as he started down the street at 
full speed : 

“ Look out ! There comes the cop ! ” and 
in another instant all save the ringleaders 
were doing their best to beat a rapid retreat. 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


37 


Bill waited only long enough to assure 
himself that a policeman was really coming 
toward him. Then he cried as he suddenly 
let go his hold of Joe’s hands and struck 
him a stinging blow full in the face, which 
caused the boy to fall backward : 

“ We’ll see you agin to-morrer, an’ then 
we’ll serve you out.” 

Joe’s head struck the curbstone with a 
force sufficient to have stunned a strong 
man, and the policeman, who by this time 
was but a few yards away, started in pursuit 
of Bill before paying any attention to his 
victim. 

There were others near at hand to render 
assistance, however, for directly behind the 
officer came two men and a boy, the latter 
carrying a violin, and as both pursued and 
pursuer disappeared around the corner they 
raised Joe’s head from the pavement. 

“ Here’s just the boy you want, Marco,” 
one of the men said in Italian. “ If he can’t 
play now, it won’t take long to show him 


38 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


how, and by only letting him out with Gui- 
seppe he’ll not dare to talk on the street.” 

“ Can we get him away before the officer 
comes back ? ” the second man asked in the 
same language, and his companion had not 
replied when the policeman returned. He 
had seen the uselessness of trying to catch 
a party of boys when it was so dark that 
they could readily hide, and gave up the 
chase very shortly after it was begun. 

“ Is the young one hurt much? ” he asked, 
and the man called Marco replied in broken 
English as the other lifted Joe in his arms : 

“ His head is cut. It is my son whom we 
were hunting for, and we will carry him 
home.” 

“ It’s all right, then, if he belongs to you,” 
the officer said, well pleased at being thus 
relieved of what might have been an un- 
pleasant duty, and the two men walked 
rapidly away, one carrying the still uncon- 
scious Joe, while the other kept a firm hold 
of the boy with the violin. 


AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK. 


39 


And when morning came the crippled 
dog waited in vain for the little fellow who 
had saved his life ; the surgeon did not 
receive the second instalment of his fee, as 
he had believed he would, nor was Si’s tiny 
sister able to find him who had promised to 
fill her brother’s place. 


CHAPTER III. 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 

When Joe awoke to consciousness he 
was sensible only of a pain in his head so 
severe that for some moments he lay with 
closed eyes, pressing his hand to his temples 
in the effort to check the throbbing of his 
veins which seemed on the point of bursting. 

Then a most distressing nausea assailed 
him ; at the same time he became aware of 
a peculiar and disagreeable odor, and a low 
cry of fear burst from his lips as he looked 
around in the vain effort to learn where he 
was. 

So strange and terrifying was the scene 
that several moments elapsed before he re- 
membered the event which preceded his 
loss of consciousness. He was lying on a 
pile of rags in one corner of a long, low 

40 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


41 


room, on the walls of which hung a variety 
of musical instruments, while on the floor 
were at least a dozen boys, some stretched 
at full length on the bare boards, and others 
resting their weary limbs on the same un- 
savory kind of a bed occupied by him. 
These sleeping companions ranged in age 
from a swarthy little fellow not more than 
seven years old to a stripling of sixteen, and 
the same disparity was observable in their 
costumes, none of which were better than 
Joe’s garments, while some were decidedly 
more ragged. 

At the opposite end of the apartment 
was an old man and a lad eighteen or nine- 
teen years of age, seated at a three-legged 
table in earnest discussion ; but as they 
spoke in the Italian language, the bewildered 
boy could gather no idea of where he was 
from the conversation. 

Fear prevented him from asking any ques- 
tions, and with a throbbing head and the 
pain of terror in his heart he lay motionless 


42 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


upon the rags, trying to understand where 
he was, or how he had been thus suddenly 
transported from the lumber-yard. 

After some moments the events of the 
evening were recalled. He remembered 
running out from the board-pile to prevent 
his enemies from learning of Doctor’s where- 
abouts, the robbery, and the cruel blow 
struck by Bill Dunham; but after that all 
was a blank. Then he thought of the crip- 
pled dog who looked to him for protection, 
of Alice for whom he had promised to find 
a temporary home, and of the surgeon who 
would be expecting him to make the second 
payment in the morning on account of ser- 
vices rendered. 

That he would be prevented from return- 
ing within a reasonable time to the lumber- 
yard never once entered his mind, although 
he fancied he might be called upon to pay 
something for the wretched shelter afforded 
during the time of his unconsciousness. He 
was afraid his story of the robbery would 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


43 


not be believed, and that an effort to detain 
him until a certain amount was paid might 
be made. 

During nearly a quarter of an hour he 
remained silent and motionless, trying to 
decide whether he should walk boldly out of 
the place, or first ascertain if there would be 
any claim for services ; but after a long 
scrutiny of the men’s faces, he concluded to 
adopt the former course, and return the next 
day with Slip Johnson and settle matters. 

“ They may try to make me stay till 
mornin’ if I tell ’em I’m goin’, 1 ’ he said to 
himself, “ an’ there’s no knowin’ what would 
happen to Doctor if I should be away so 
long.” 

With this thought in his mind he rose 
cautiously to his feet, and crept softly toward 
the nearest of the two doors which led from 
the room ; but, however careful he was to 
guard against making a noise, the latch 
clicked in the lock sharply as he tried to 
turn the knob. 


44 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


In vain he pulled with all his strength ; 
the door was locked, and the two at the 
table, warned by the noise, were watching 
his movements without attempting to pre- 
vent him from making the effort to escape. 
Emboldened by their evident indifference, 
he went toward the second door, which was 
directly opposite where they were sitting; 
but before he could grasp the knob the tall 
boy leaped from his seat, caught him by the 
collar, and dragged him back to the table 
that the light of the candle might fall upon 
his face. 

“ What’s your name? ” he asked, with an 
accent so strong that the captive had some 
difficulty in understanding him. 

“ The fellows call me Little Joe. Say, 
I’ve got to go back to the lumber-yard right 
away, ’cause somebody’s waitin’ for me. Bill 
Dunham and his crowd stole all my money ; 
but if you’ll ho’d on till mornin’ I’ll scrape 
up enough to pay part of what I owe you 
for takin’ care of me when I was hurt.” 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


45 


“ Where is your father ? ” 

“ I haven’t got any, nor a mother neither; 
but I musn’t stay any longer. I’ll come 
here again jest as soon as I get some money 
to pay you with.” 

As he spoke Joe turned toward the door 
once more ; but before he could move a 
single pace in the desired direction the old 
man pulled him back roughly, and taking 
from the table a short, stout-handled whip 
with a thick leather lash, struck him twice 
across the back with a force that caused the 
poor boy to shriek with pain. 

“You will stay with us,” he said sternly, 
shaking Joe violently, as if by so doing the 
words would be better understood. “ If you 
try to run away I will use this on your bare 
back till you cannot stand. Now lie down, 
and do not dare to speak before morning.” 

This command was immediately followed 
by a vicious thrust which sent Joe reeling 
toward the corner he had just left, causing 
him to fall headlong over the rags, where 


46 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


for some seconds he lay without motion, as 
if senseless. 

The noise awakened several of the boys, 
among whom was the 'one who had been 
present when the Italian represented to the 
policeman that Joe was his son, and they 
arose sleepily to a sitting. posture; but on 
seeing what had caused the disturbance laid 
down again, as if such incidents were of too 
frequent occurrence to create any surprise. 

Joe was mentally stunned. He could 
hardly bring himself to believe that these 
men deliberately proposed to keep him 
prisoner, and yet he had painful evidence of 
the fact. He remembered having heard 
Si Hodgdon say that there was a class of 
Italians who made virtual slaves of boys, 
forcing them to beg, or play on musical in- 
struments in the streets; but he had never 
fancied such could be the case in a city like 
New York, until at this very moment. 

“ I won’t stay ! I can t stay ! ” he moaned, 
as he buried his face deeper in the pile of 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


47 


rags. “ Who will look after Alice an’ Doc- 
tor if I’m not there in the mornin’? An’ 
when I don’t pay the man for mendin’ the 
poor little dog’s legs, he’ll think I’m a 
fraud.” 

“ Stop your whining and go to sleep, or I 
shall give you another taste of the whip ! ” 
the padrone shouted, and poor Joe did his 
best to repress the big sobs which shook his 
slender frame violently. 

The grief and despair in his heart was 
so great that punishment could not reduce 
him to absolute silence. It was beyond his 
power to obey the harshly-spoken command, 
and the threat would most likely have been 
carried into effect if, from among the occu- 
pants of the room, one had not dared to 
sympathize with the new-comer. 

The master of the establishment had 
hardly finished speaking, when Joe felt the 
light pressure of a hand on his shoulder, 
and, looking up for an instant, he saw a 
small Italian boy, not more than eight years 


4 8 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


old, who whispered in a trifle better English 
than that spoken by the man : 

“ Make no noise, for old Marco will use 
the whip. It is bad to be here ; but do not 
let it be worse.” 

“What right has he to keep me?” Joe 
asked passionately, but in the same low tone 
as that used by the boy. “ I’ve got to go 
home ! I’ve got to go.” 

“No one but the master can leave here in 
the night, and you could not get out if they 
should let you try, for the doors are locked. 
When you are forced to fiddle on the street 
all day you will be glad of a chance to lie 
here.” 

“ What are they goin’ to do with me ? 
Why do they want to keep me ? ” Joe asked 
in a voice choked with sobs. 

“ Old Marco will show you how to play 
on the fiddle.” 

“ I won’t learn ! I can’t even play on a 
jewsharp, and I won’t touch a fiddle!” 

“ Then the master will beat you. The 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


49 


whip was used on me when I tried to run 
away, and it cut like a knife. You must do 
as he tells you, and some time, a good many 
days from now, we may both get a chance 
to go. Don’t say no when he says yes, for 
it will make you pain,” and the boy flung 
his arm around Joe’s neck in kindly sym- 
pathy. 

If it had not been for thoughts of Alice 
and Doctor, and the shame he felt at thus 
being forced to break his promise to the 
surgeon, Joe might have borne up under his 
troubles more bravely, for he could have 
consoled himself in a measure with the idea 
that he would eventually succeed in escap- 
ing. It was the suffering which his absence, 
even if only for a few days, would probably 
cause that made him almost frantic, and 
rendered impossible the slightest effort at 
resignation. As he tried to imagine what 
steps his friends would take toward finding 
him, a ray of hope sprang up in his heart. If 
he was sent out with the other boys next 


50 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


morning he might possibly see Slippey, and 
thus succeed in getting away from his cap- 
tors ; but his anticipations were speedily 
crushed after asking the lad by his side : 

“ Will I have to go with the rest to-mor- 
row ? ” 

“No; not for many days, and perhaps 
you will be taken to some other city. If old 
Marco treats you as he did me when I was 
brought from Chicago by my uncle, he will 
keep you shut up here till you can play on 
the fiddle, and when you are allowed on the 
street, after praying to see the bright sun, 
Guiseppe will be by your side. He is as 
bad as the master.” 

“ Go to sleep, Tonio, and hold your peace, 
or to-morrow you will work without your 
breakfast,” old Marco shouted, and the boy 
obeyed silently, after whispering in Joe’s ear: 

“ Do not tempt him to use the whip, and 
in the morning do whatever he commands.” 

Then he crept away to the pile of rags 
which served him as a bed, and Joe was 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


51 


left alone with his gloomy thoughts and 
almost overpowering sorrow. 

When the little captive had been ordered 
to go to sleep he thought it would never be 
possible to obey while he remained in that 
‘terrible place; but the violence of his grief 
was so great that in less than an hour kindly 
slumber had closed his eyes, and until morn- 
ing he remained blissfully unconscious of 
his wretchedness. 

It was Tonio who awakened him when the 
distribution of bread crusts and pieces of 
cold meat was begun, and he said in a half- 
apologetic tone: 

“ If you do not get a share now you will 
go without until evening, and old Marco 
’rouses the boys with a whip instead of 
words.” 

Joe sprang to his feet as if bewildered at 
finding himself in such a place; but the 
events of the previous night came to his 
mind in a very few seconds, and he crouched 
upon the rags again as if the appearance of 


52 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


the food which the Italian was taking from 
a basket, giving a greater or less amount to 
each lad, according to his record for indus- 
try or indolence, was to him disgusting. 

The old man threw two broken biscuits 
and a small piece of cold beef down by Joe’s 
side, and then passed on, indifferent whether 
they were accepted or not; but little Tonio, 
seeing that the boy paid no attention to this 
allowance, said as he slipped the food into 
the captive’s pocket : 

“ Keep it, for you will be hungry by and 
by. I must leave you now; but you shall 
see me again to-night.” 

“ Are you going out-doors ? ” Joe whispered 
eagerly, catching the boy by the hand and 
speaking very close to his ear. 

“Yes, and we shall get a beating if we do 
not bring Marco the money he thinks ought 
to be earned.” 

“ If you go near the Thirty-fourth-street 
ferry and see a newsboy, won’t you ask him 
to tell Slip Johnson where I tun?” 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


53 


“ I would like to, but Guiseppe will beat 
me if I speak English to any one on the 
street,” Tonio said, as he shook his head 
sadly. 

“ But you might get a chance when he 
isn’t looking,” Joe urged, and the boy re- 
plied earnestly: 

“ If I do I will take the risk of a beating, 
and repeat your words.” 

There was no time for him to say any- 
thing more ; old Marco was issuing harsh 
commands in the Italian language to “his 
children,” as he called them, and Tonio was 
obliged to depart with the others. Joe 
watched him as he took a violin and bow 
from the wall before following a tall, for- 
bidding-looking boy who carried a harp, 
and when he left the room he threw himself 
on the pile of rags once more, without 
attempting to check the grief which burst 
forth in passionate weeping. 

But even the poor consolation which tears 
sometimes afford was denied him, for no 


54 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


sooner had the boys gone out than old 
Marco came up with a much-battered violin 
and bow in his hand, and made known to 
Joe that his close attention was required, by 
kicking him on the arm. 

“You will learn to play this,” he said with 
even a broader accent than he had used 
when speaking to the policeman. “ When 
you can fiddle you may go out with the 
others ; but if you do not try, I have this,” 
and he held up the whip with a threatening 
gesture. 

Just for an instant Joe was tempted to 
resist; but Tonio’s advice came into his 
mind, and reflecting that he could hope to 
effect nothing while held a close prisoner 
he made a brave effort to repress his tears 
as he followed old Marco’s instructions to 
the best of his ability. 

During the entire day, save at brief inter- 
vals when the padrone left the room from 
motives of business or pleasure, Joe was 
forced to practice with the bow, and by 


IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER. 


55 


noon his arms ached so badly that it seemed 
almost impossible to raise them. He kept 
on, however, without complaint of weariness, 
for he had come to understand that the 
first step toward making an escape was to 
gain such knowledge of music as would 
cause him to be sent out with the others. 

He was also sustained by the hope, which 
grew stronger as the day advanced, that 
Tonio would succeed in sending word to 
his friends, and he waited with a feverish 
impatience for the return of the boys, which, 
perhaps, did not pass unnoticed by old 
Marco. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE PUNISHMENT. 

Not until nearly sunset did the old padrone 
allow Joe to take any lengthy rest, and then 
he signified that work was done for the day 
by giving him quite a generous allowance of 
cold meat and bread. In the morning the 
unhappy boy had thought it would be im- 
possible to eat the food, even though his 
own peculiar manner of living was not cal- 
culated to make him fastidious ; but before 
night came his hunger asserted itself so 
strongly that even the dry crusts tasted 
palatable, and this second portion of food 
was not despised as the first had been. 

The boys had left the house in parties of 
two and three, and they returned in the 
same order, each group presenting them- 
selves before the table at which the master 
56 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


57 


was seated, to give him the fruits of their 
labor, as represented either by money or 
food, and waiting there until he passed 
judgment upon them. Some were praised, 
for the padrone decided as to their industry 
or indolence by the amount brought, and 
were given what was considered by them as 
an appetizing meal. Others were scolded, 
not a few whipped, and two sent supperless 
to bed. 

Among these last was Tonio. His com- 
panion, Guiseppe, gave old Marco an un- 
favorable account of his work, and the result 
was that he would have nothing to eat 
until the following morning, a punishment 
which was considered more severe than if 
he had received half a dozen blows with 
the whip. 

Joe had waited for this boy, whom he 
looked upon as a friend, in anxious expect- 
ancy, and when he entered the room tried to 
form, from the expression on his face, some 
idea as to whether he had succeeded in 


58 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


sending any word to Slip Johnson. In this 
attempt he was unsuccessful, for Guiseppe 
brought Tonio forward like a criminal who 
might make an attempt to escape, and not 
until old Marco passed sentence upon him 
was it possible to see his face. 

Then there was no necessity of asking 
any questions, for he shook his head deject- 
edly when he caught Joe’s inquiring gaze, 
and the poor boy who had built so many 
hopes on this one chance, was again plunged 
into the lowest depths of despair. 

“ I tried, but Guiseppe kept too sharp a 
watch,” he said when he was at liberty to 
approach Joe who was sitting on the rags in 
the corner giving full vent to his grief. 
“ The day I was first brought here I did 
my best to run away, and now old Marco 
never lets me go out save with those who 
are well content to stay in his service. We 
were not near your ferry, but I spoke to two 
newsboys, and because of that I am to have 
no supper.” 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


59 


These words aroused Joe from his sorrow 
more quickly than anything else could have 
done, and he cried, as he pulled from his 
pocket the food which as yet he had not 
tasted — 

“ Take this. You’ve walked around all 
day, an’ must be hungry, while I’ve been 
stayin’ here ; besides, I’m feelin’ too bad to 
want anything to eat.” 

“ Put it away,” Tonio cried quickly and 
with every appearance of fear. “ If old 
Marco should see that we would both be 
flogged — you for giving, and I for taking 
it.” 

“ Haven’t I got the right to do as I please 
with this stuff if I don’t want anything to 
eat?” Joe asked, still holding the food in 
his hand. 

“ You may throw it on the floor, but not 
give a crumb to one who has been pun- 
ished,” Tonio said, as he motioned for Joe 
to put out of sight what were to him tempt- 
ing morsels, and when they had been hidden 


6o 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


in one of the many pockets of the enormous 
coat, he added, “ After the others are asleep 
pass me what you do not want.” 

“ That’ll be all,” was the decided reply. 
“ There is such a big lump in my throat 
that I ain’t hungry, an’ so long as you got 
into trouble through tryin’ to help me, it 
isn’t more than fair you should have the 
whole.” 

A quick, warning look from Tonio caused 
Joe to cease speaking suddenly, and turning 
his head slightly he saw the mocking face of 
Guiseppe from behind a harp which, with 
its covering of green baize, stood a few feet 
to the left of where the boys were sitting. 

On being discovered, the spy, for that was 
in fact the position he held in the household, 
came toward Joe with what he intended 
should be a gesture of the utmost friendli- 
ness, as he said : 

“ When Tonio tells you he is hungry, pay 
no attention, for he has not obeyed 4:he good 
Marco who gives him this home, and it 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


6l 


would be only right if he had no food for 
two days.” 

“ Old Marco is a villian ! ” Joe cried, 
unable to keep his temper in check any 
longer, and he continued despite Tonio’s 
frantic gestures for him to be silent. “ The 
time will come when he’ll wish he hadn’t 
given a home to so many boys, for he can’t 
keep me shut up here all the time, and after 
I do get out I’ll tell every policeman in the 
city about this place.” 

^uiseppe made no reply, but his dark face 
was lighted up with a smile of satisfaction 
which made it look positively hideous as he 
glided swiftly across the room to where the 
old man was counting the cash receipts of 
the day, and sorting out the different 
varieties of food by putting each kind into 
a separate basket. 

“Oh, dear!”Tonio wailed in a tone of 
deepest distress. “ Why did you say such 
things ? ” 

“ It’s the truth,” Joe replied stoutly, “an’ 


62 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


when I get away from here I’ll do just what 
I threatened.” 

“ But you should not have spoken of it 
before Guiseppe ; he is only happy when he 
sees the whip in use. Now they will watch 
more closely than ever, and you will be sent 
away when the padrone’s friends need boys 
in other cities. I, too, will suffer for the 
words, and there is no hope of my being 
able to give your message to those who 
know you.” 

“ I had rather they would kill me right off 
quick than keep me shut up here,” Joe said; 
but despite the brave words his lips trembled 
ominously and his sun-browned face grew 
pale. 

“ They will whip, not kill us,” Tonio said 
faintly, and even as he spoke Guiseppe came 
swiftly toward them. 

“ The master will speak with you,” he 
said, as he seized both the boys by their 
coat-collars with a movement so rapid that 
it could not have been guarded against 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


63 


even if they were meditating resistance, and 
dragged them roughly across the room with 
as much zest as if he was about to partici- 
pate in some rare sport. 

“So!” the padrone exclaimed with a 
peculiar intonation which sounded to Joe 
like the snarl of an animal rather than a 
human voice. “ Old Marco is a villain 
about whom the police must be warned, is 
he ? Take the supper from him, if there is 
any left in his pockets, Guiseppe, and he 
shall know whether it is better to go hungry 
than be fed.” 

Tonio watched eagerly as the crusts of 
bread, on which he had hoped to feast, were 
taken from Joe, seeming to be more sad 
over the loss of the food than regarding the 
prospective punishment, and after that had 
been done the padrone dealt each culprit a 
series of heavy blows with the stout whip 
which called forth shrieks and cries of pain 
despite their efforts to remain silent. 

A few of the other boys gathered around 


6 4 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


to enjoy the scene ; but the majority of the 
wretched inmates crouched in the corner 
like cowed animals who can be terrified by 
the swish of the lash as it cuts through the 
air. 

When the padrone finished his brutal 
work he laid the whip on the table as if to 
have it close at hand in case it should sud- 
denly be needed, and then, resuming his 
work of counting the money, gave an order 
to Guiseppe in Italian which caused Tonio 
to fall on his knees, crying and begging 
even more vehemently than when the leath- 
ern thongs were cutting into his flesh. 

No attention was paid to these entreaties. 
The old man did not raise his head, which 
was again bent over the pile of small coins ; 
but repeated the command impatiently, and 
Guiseppe in turn called for one of the boys 
to assist him in what was evidently a most 
pleasing task. 

There was no lack of volunteers from 
among those who had been interested spec- 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


65 


tators of the flogging, and before Joe was 
fully aware of the fact he was being pushed 
through the door which a third opened, 
toward a staircase leading to the basement. 

Tonio ceased his outcries the instant he 
felt Guiseppe’s grasp upon his neck, and the 
two whose only crime was a desire for free- 
dom, were half-forced, half-carried down a 
short flight of stairs to a small, damp, brick 
apartment which had originally been built 
as a coal-hole. After being thrust into this 
noisome place, Guiseppe, gratifying his bru- 
tal nature by kicking them most industri- 
ously all the while, the door was shut and 
bolted, leaving them cowering in the dark- 
ness as they clung closely one to the other 
for mutual protection. 

In pain as he was, both mentally and 
physically, Joe gave no heed to either his 
companion or the surroundings for some 
time after they were left alone. The sense 
of a grievous injury inflicted was uppermost 
in his mind until the thought of the suffer- 


66 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


ing to which others might be subjected 
because of his absence, came once more, 
and his troubles were greater than could be 
borne in silence. 

“ Can’t we get away from this dreadful 
place ? ” he cried. “ Have we got to stay 
here an’ let them treat us as they choose ? ” 

“ Those who try to run away from old 
Marco are always brought back, and I can- 
not tell you how terribly they are beaten,” 
Tonio said gloomily. “ It would not be so 
bad if only the whip was used; but they have 
been made to stay in this place without any- 
thing to eat until you would weep to see 
them.” 

“ How long do you suppose they will keep 
us here ? ” 

“ No one ever comes out in less than one 
day and a night, and Marco does not bring 
food to those who are being punished.” 

“ See here, Tonio,” Joe said abruptly, after 
a long pause, “ if it hadn’t been for me you 
wouldn’t a’ got served like this. I don’t 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


6 7 


s’pose I can say anything that’ll make you 
feel better, but I’m awful sorry. I never 
mean to get folks into trouble, an’ yet it 
seems as though I always did. If I could 
,a’ taken all the beatin’ it wouldn’t been so 
bad.” 

“You did not know,” Tonio replied sooth- 
ingly. “ If you had staid longer' here I’m 
sure the words would not have been spoken. 
It isn’t as bad as if I was alone, and we 
shan’t get so very hungry if we don’t have 
to work.” 

Joe had not been reduced to the same 
state of subjection as Tonio, therefore he 
could see nothing cheering in this unwar- 
ranted punishment. He refused to look for- 
ward to their release from close confinement 
as something to be greatly desired, but 
thought only of escaping from the padrone’s 
power. 

“ What street is this house on ? ” he asked, 
after a pause, as if he had not heard his 
companion’s attempt at encouragement. 


68 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


“ It is on Crosby Street, at the corner of 
a court where the Italians live.’ , 

“ I wonder if there isn’t a window that 
we could crawl through ? ” 

“ There is a little one with iron bars 
across it; but there are heavy boards to shut 
out the light,” Tonio replied in a tone 
which showed that he believed any effort to 
escape would be in vain. 

“ If we’ve got to stay here all night, it 
won’t do much harm to look at it,” and 
again the sense of injury was uppermost in 
his mind. “ I won’t give over tryin’ to get 
out of this place so long as I can move.” 

“ The master will use the whip harder 
than before if he knows we have even 
thought of running away,” Tonio cried in 
alarm. 

“Then he’s got to flog me till I can’t 
stand, for I shan’t give in,” Joe said resolutely, 
as he groped his way around in search of the 
window. “ I’d rather die a hundred times than 
stay here an’ work for that crowd up-stairs.” 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


69 


Tonio was silent; he failed to understand 
how any one could even appear indifferent 
to the punishment old Marco would inflict. 
He was eager to escape, but not willing to 
make the attempt unless absolutely certain 
he should succeed, and perhaps Joe might 
have been quite as timid if he had known 
the padrone better. 

It was not a difficult task to find the 
boards which covered the window, for the 
apartment was so small that in a short time 
the searcher could pass his hands over every 
inch of the walls. 

“ I believe we might pull these off,” Joe 
said in a low tone of suppressed excitement. 
“ They are loose now, an’ if you’ll help me 
I’m almost sure it can be done.” 

“And what then?” Tonio asked listlessly. 
“ The iron bars will still be there ; we can- 
not pull them out.” 

“We can look into the street, and per- 
haps see somebody who will help us get 
away,” Joe cried impatiently. “ Come, Toi)io ? 


70 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


we’ll never be free if we don’t run some 
risks, an’ I’ll keep on tryin’ if he stands 
right over me with the whip.” 

“We shall see no one except old Marco’s 
friends, who will tell him what we are 
doing,” Tonio replied; but at the same time 
he did as his companion had requested. 

The nails which held the screen in place 
were driven into the mortar between the 
bricks, and it was only necessary that the 
boys should work them to and fro several 
moments before they could be pulled out. 

As the boards yielded to their efforts and 
the prison was illumined by the rays of the 
street lamps, Tonio pointed moodily to the 
heavy bars which yet remained between 
them and the open air, but Joe uttered a 
low cry of joy as he pressed his face close to 
the grating. 

“ If we could only be on the sidewalk for 
one little minute ! ” he cried excitedly. “ It 
wouldn’t take long to show them villians our 
heels, an’ then how happy we’d feel! ” 


THE PUNISHMENT. 


7 1 


“We are here, and the sidewalk is there,” 
was the reply in a bitter tone, as Tonio 
threw himself upon the brick floor, leaving 
his companion on the watch for some one 
to whom an appeal for help might be made. 


CHAPTER V. 


PROMISED AID. 

Old Marco’s prisoners could not gain any 
very extensive view from the grated window, 
for it was on a level with the sidewalk, and 
the buildings opposite were hardly more than 
a dozen feet away. By standing close against 
the wall, it was barely possible to get a glimpse 
of Crosby Street ; but to attract the atten- 
tion of any one outside the court would be 
an extremely difficult matter. 

Tonio, who had been well aware of this 
unpleasant fact before the boards were re- 
moved, did not indulge in what was to Joe 
the luxury of looking through the bars. He 
remained stretched at full length on the 
damp floor of bricks, thinking bitterly of 
the price they would be called upon to pay 
for having dared to do even this much 


72 


PROMISED AID. 


73 


toward bettering their condition, and the 
minutes had formed themselves into an 
hour before either of the unhappy captives 
spoke. Then Joe said with a sigh, as he 
turned from the narrow aperture : 

“ There’s no chance of our seein’ any of 
the fellers before mornin’, even if they come 
’round here to sell papers reg’lar. We’ll 
put the boards back so’s when Guiseppe 
goes out he won’t know what’s been doite, 
an’ after all hands have left the house we 
can take ’em down again.” 

Tonio was on his feet in an instant, eager 
to efface, so far as possible, the traces of 
their work, and after several attempts, the 
screen was in place, the nails having been 
pushed firmly into the holes in the mortar 
until, from the outside, it would have been 
difficult to perceive that the boys had ever 
had the audacity to breath the tainted air of 
the court. 

When this was done Joe’s companion so 
far recovered from his fears as to be able 


74 


PROMISED AID. 


to engage in conversation, and the unhappy 
lads discussed the possibilities of escape, 
which were very few, according to Tonio’s 
ideas. 

“ They’ll send us both away,” he said, 
when Joe suggested there was yet a chance 
that he might have an opportunity to speak 
with some of the newsboys. “ After this old 
Marco will believe I might try to help you, 
and I don't. think he’ll allow me to go out 
even with^Guiseppe. Then when we are in 
some strang^ city under a master as cruel as 
the one* we^Jiave now, there can be no hope.” 

“We haven’t been sent away yet,” Joe 
replied, speaking cheerfully, although his 
heart was filled with despair, “ an’ we won’t 
give in while there’s ever so little a chance.” 

A deep sigh was the only reply Tonio 
made, and for a long time neither spoke. 
To describe their situation in plain words 
made it appear more desperate than the 
reality, and Joe said at length : 

“We might as well sleep as much as we 


PROMISED AID. 


75 


can ; but our eyes must be open the first 
thing in the morning so we can tell the very 
minute the boys go out to work.” 

“ The rags up-stairs are softer than these 
bricks, and we shall not need any one to 
awaken us.” 

In this Tonio was correct. Although the 
air from the street appeared warm, the boys’ 
teeth were chattering after they had lain on 
the bricks half an hour, and the chilling 
dampness was so penetrating that it became 
necessary to move around briskly in order 
to prevent actual suffering. 

Their condition might have been im- 
proved by removing the screen, for the heat 
from the street, even though it was night, 
would have increased the temperature sen- 
sibly; but this Joe himself was not willing 
to do lest they sleep too late, and some 
early riser in the court should report the 
fact to old Marco. All his hopes were cen- 
tered on being able to attract the attention 
of a boy who would carry the news of their 


76 


PROMISED AID. 


imprisonment to Slip Johnson, and to make 
this possible it was necessary the master 
remain in ignorance of what had been 
done. 

It was a long, wretched night which the 
prisoners passed before the welcome sound 
of wagon-wheels from the street told that 
the city was awakening to another day of 
joy or sorrow, labor or indolence. Slumber 
had not visited their eyelids during all the 
weary time, and at the first noise betokening 
the morning’s approach they were on the 
alert for any movement on the part of old 
Marco’s unhappy family. 

Impatient and anxious as they were, it 
seemed as if hours elapsed before the tramp 
of feet overhead told that the padrone’s 
little slaves were preparing to set out for 
another day of work from which they could 
reap no benefit, save such as might be repre- 
sented by absence of punishment and a 
handful of dry crusts. 

Then the sound of closing doors gave 


PROMISED AID. 


77 


proof that the boys had left the house, and 
Joe stood by the screen of boards eager to 
begin the watch from which he hoped for 
such happy results. 

“Do not take them away yet,” Tonio said 
imploringly. “ Old Marco himself may go 
out ; the rag-pickers will be passing, and it 
is much too early to see your friends.” 

Joe was well aware that his companion’s 
advice was good, and he controlled his im- 
patience until positive it must be nearly 
noon, when he said: 

“ It’s no use to wait any longer, for they’re 
more likely to come ’round here sellin’ 
papers in the mornin’ than any other time,” 
and with one vigorous wrench he pulled the 
screen away. 

It was not necessary for him to gaze into 
the street many moments before being con- 
vinced that it was yet early in the day, and 
while fearing the window had been uncov- 
ered too soon, he was not willing to rectify 
what might possibly be a mistake lest the 


78 


PROMISED AID. 


one opportunity he so ardently ionged for 
would be lost. 

Tonio listened at the door for any sounds 
betokening a visit from the padrone, while 
Joe remained with his face close against the 
bars, and their relative positions were com- 
paratively unchanged when the sudden ap- 
pearance of many people on the street told 
that it was noon. The employes from the 
factories and shops in the vicinity were 
going to dinner, and their merry words and 
laughter rang like notes of mockery in the 
watcher’s ears ; he could not understand 
why others should be happy while he was 
in such sore distress. 

Twice he called softly, hoping to attract 
attention ; but the noise from the street and 
the hum of conversation completely drowned 
his voice, although it seemed to Tonio that 
it was sufficiently loud to be heard by old 
Marco. 

“ I must do more than whisper,” Joe said, 
as his companion cautioned him against 


PROMISED AID. 


79 


making such an outcry. “ Unless I shout 
they won’t know we are here.” 

“ If the master hears before those on the 
street do, you will not be able even to whis- 
per,” Tonio replied with an ominous shake 
of the head, the pallor of his face telling 
eloquently of his fears. 

Another hour went by, during which 
neither of the prisoners spoke, and the same 
throng of workingmen and women re-passed 
to take up again their briefly interrupted 
tasks ; but, although they were less noisy, 
Joe made no effort to attract attention. He 
had begun to despair, and fear of the old 
padrone was making rapid inroads upon his 
courage. 

It was when hope had very nearly deserted 
him that he uttered a low, sudden cry of joy 
which brought Tonio to his side, and in 
another instant he was making a sharp, 
hissing noise, as he called from time to 
time : 

“Dick! Dick! Come into the court ! ” 


8o 


PROMISED AID. 


Tonio waited by the window only long 
enough to see two boys on the sidewalk 
who were deeply engrossed in a game of 
marbles hardly more than half a dozen yards 
away, and then he darted to his place at the 
door once more, trembling so violently with 
excitement and apprehension that his ser- 
vices as a listener must have been sadly 
impaired. 

It was fully five minutes before Joe suc- 
ceeded in making himself heard by Dick 
White, a boy whom he had once met with 
Tom Brady, and then it seemed almost an 
endless time before this chance acquaintance 
could ascertain from what quarter the sum- 
mons had come. 

By pushing his arm between the iron bars 
Joe finally persuaded Master White to ven- 
ture into the court, and then he asked in a 
voice so choked with emotion that it sounded 
strange and indistinct: 

“ Do you know Slip Johnson ? ” 

“ Slip Johnson ? ” Dick repeated, with such 


PROMISED AID. 


8 1 


deliberation that Joe was nearly frantic with 
fear lest the old padrone should discover the 
state of affairs and interrupt him just when 
escape seemed possible. 

“Yes, yes; Tom Brady’s pardner.” 

“ I know Tom,” was the slowly-spoken 
reply. “ But say, who be you ? ” 

“ I’m a feller what sells papers up near 
the Thirty-fourth-street ferry — Little Joe, 
the boys call me. A lot of Italian organ- 
grinders have locked me in here, an’ I can’t 
get out. Will you tell Tom to tell Slip 
where I am, an’ ask him to come down here 
with a big p’liceman ? ” 

“ How did they catch you ? ” Dick asked, 
his curiosity exceeding his sympathy. 

“ Bill Dunham’s crowd was poundin’ me, 
an’ somehow this old man lugged me off 
when I didn’t know anything. I don’t dare 
to talk very long for fear he’ll come ; but if 
you’ll find Tom an’ Slip before dark, I’ll 
agree to pay you half a dollar the next 
day after I get away from here.” 


82 


PROMISED AID. 


“You don’t happen to have the money 
now, I s’pose ? ” 

“ I haven’t got a cent ; but if you’re ’fraid 
to trust me, Slip will give it to you. Tell 
him he must bring a p’liceman, else they 
might keep him, too. This is an awful 
place, an’ the man beats all the boys with a 
big whip.” 

“ What are you down in that coal-hole 
for?” Dick asked, determined to gain the 
full particulars before exerting himself to 
search for Tom Brady. 

“’Cause I said I’d run away; but don’t, 
please don’t stop here any longer, or the old 
man will be sure to see you. Go right off 
now, an’ tell Slip I’ll die if he don’t get me 
out to-night.” 

“ I don’t believe they’d dare to kill you,” 
Dick said, with what to Joe was exasperating 
deliberation. “ If there’s any danger of that 
I’ll walk right into the house, an’ tell ’em 
they’ll all be ’rested for murder.” 

“ Somebody will come if he don’t go soon,” 


PROMISED AID. 


83 


Tonio cried with a groan, and Joe added im- 
ploringly : 

“ Please start now, Dick. I’ll tell you 
everything when I get out, an’ if you stay 
much longer it’ll be all up with us. You 
shall have as much money as I can earn in 
a week if you only tell Tom about me. before 
dark.’’ 

“ I can do that easy enough,” was the con- 
fident reply; “but what I want to know 
is — ” 

“ Old Marco is coming dowm the stairs ! ” 
Tonio cried in a frantic whisper, as he darted 
toward the window and seized the screen. 
“ Get this up quickly, or we shall be discov- 
ered ! ” 

“Run, Dick, please run! Some one is 
coming now!” Joe said in a pitiful tone of 
entreaty, and then he aided his companion 
in replacing the boards, his hands trembling 
so violently that if old Marco had been on 
his way to visit the prisoners, he would 
have entered the apartment several moments 


8 4 


PROMISED AID. 


before they succeeded in concealing the 
efforts made toward escape. 

Then followed a time of greatest anxiety 
as the boys waited, expecting a visit from 
the padrone ; but nothing was heard to 
denote that the cellar had any occupant 
save themselves, and Joe said, with a long- 
drawn breath of relief: 

“You made a mistake; if any one had 
come down-stairs the door would have been 
opened before this. I wish now I’d said 
more to Dick so’s to be sure he’d hurry.” 

“Do you think he’ll go? ” Tonio asked in 
a whisper. 

“ Of course he will. Anybody would do 
that much when fellers are in such trouble 
as us. Slip will be sure to come with a 
p’liceman, an’ you shall go with me. We’ll 
make old Marco let out every one what 
don’t want to stay.” 

“I’m afraid — afraid,” Tonio repeated, as 
he crouched once more by the door. 

“ What of ? ” If they keep us here till 


PROMISED AID. 


85 


the others come home we’re all right,” and 
Joe spoke incautiously loud, so firm was his 
belief that they would soon be free. “ I 
wonder if Dick has gone.” 

“Don’t take the boards down!” Tonio 
cried as Joe went toward the window. “ It 
can do no good, and if the boy should begin 
to talk again somebody might hear him.” 

“ I’ll only pull one end out so’s to peep 
through. You’ve been here so long, Tonio, 
that you’re frightened at nothing.” 

It was necessary for him to wrench the 
screen several inches from the masonry 
before he could gain a view of that portion 
of the street overlooked by the narrow aper- 
ture, and he cried in a joyful tone as he 
peered through: 

“ He has gone ! There isn’t anybody 
in sight, an’ it won’t be long — ” 

The noise of a key in the lock caused 
him to cease speaking very suddenly, and 
he made every effort to replace the boards 
before the visitor could enter; but in vain. 


86 


PROMISED AID. 


A broad ray of light from beneath one 
end of the screen illumined the room when 
the door was swung open quickly, and 
Guiseppe stood in front of the boys with a 
look of mingled triumph and anger on his 
face. 

Tonio had already crept into the corner 
where he cowered in abject fear, but Joe 
was at the window, pushing on the nails as 
if it was yet important that the aperture 
should be closed. 

“ So ! ” and Guiseppe was evidently copy- 
ing after old Marco in his style of speech. 
“ You thought to be wiser than the master, 
and have dared to speak with those outside.” 

“ I dared to try an’ get out of this place, 
if that’s what you mean,” Joe said, with a 
show of defiance, “an’ I will keep tryin’ till 
you kill me.” 

“We shall see what the master thinks,” 
was the reply, in a menacing tone, as the 
lad, taking a piece of stout cord from his 
pocket, tied the prisoners’ hands behind 


PROMISED AID. 


87 


them, neither making the slightest show of 
resistance, for both knew only too well how 
useless would be such a course. 

“ Now, march,” he cried, pushing the help- 
less boys forward, and, silent with fear, they 
ascended the stairs, closely followed by one 
whose greatest delight was to witness the 
suffering of others. 


CHAPTER VI. 


TOO LATE. 

During the few seconds which elapsed 
from the time of leaving the cellar until 
they stood in the padrone’s presence, Joe 
made an attempt to cheer his companion in 
misery by whispering words of hope ; but 
Guiseppe sternly ordered him to “ hold his 
tongue,” and Tonio looked so distressed 
lest he should provoke their cruel master 
still further, that he walked on in silence, 
trying hard to prevent the fear in his heart 
from being seen on his face. 

Old Marco was seated at the three-legged 
table when the boys were led into the room, 
and that he was not yet aware of what had 
happened in the basement could be told 
from the astonishment he exhibited at see- 
ing the culprits brought before him. His 
88 


TOO LATE. 


quick, impatient question in Italian was 
answered in the same language by Guiseppe, 
who occupied several moments giving, as 
Joe naturally supposed, an account of the 
discovery he had made. 

While his assistant was talking the padrone 
looked angrily at the two boys ; but before 
the story was concluded he glanced nervously 
around as if the knowledge that Joe had 
succeeded in sending word to his friends 
caused him considerable alarm. 

If the prisoners had simply made a vain 
attempt they would undoubtedly have been 
severely flogged ; but since a message had 
actually been sent to some portion of the 
city, old Marco had no time to spend in 
such a manner. He knew what would be 
the result if a descent was made upon his 
establishment by the officers, and that very 
undesirable visit might be paid at any mo- 
ment, therefore it was necessary, according 
to his belief, to prepare immediately for their 
reception. 


90 


TOO LATE. 


He gave a brief command to Guiseppe, 
and that young gentleman seized Tonio by 
the collar, marching him out of the room so 
quickly that there was no opportunity for 
him to speak, even had he been so disposed. 

To Joe it seemed almost as if his compan- 
ion had been led away for execution, and he 
felt more alarmed at this singular proceed- 
ing than if the whip had been called into 
immediate use. 

While his assistant was absent old Marco 
was so busily engaged throwing the piles of 
rags which had served as beds, into one 
enormous heap, and evidently trying to 
change the general appearance of the apart- 
ment, that he paid no attention to Joe, who 
stood near the table directly opposite the 
door. 

Just for an instant he believed it might be 
possible to slip out of the room before the 
padrone could prevent him; but on trying 
to raise his hands, which were still tied 
behind his back, he understood at once that 


TOO LATE. 


91 


his hopes were vain. The door might as 
well be locked as latched, so far as his 
ability to open it was concerned. 

When Guiseppe returned, after an absence 
of about five minutes, he was alone. Instead 
of waiting for further orders he seized Joe 
by the throat in such a manner that the boy 
could hardly breath, much less speak, and 
while he was thus helpless pushed him 
roughly into the hall. Then the Italian 
walked swiftly on, without relaxing his hold, 
through the hall into the street, and from 
there to the extreme end of the court where 
was a dilapidated-looking house in front of 
which a party of rag-pickers were at work 
over the piles of rubbish collected during 
the morning. 

Two or three of the women stared curi- 
ously at the half-strangled boy as if to 
impress his face upon their memory in case 
it should be desirable to recognize him at 
some future time; but the men hardly looked 
up from their work, and this indifference 


92 


TOO LATE. 


showed Joe how useless would be any appeal 
for help even if it was possible for him to 
speak. 

Guiseppe had the same idea of the value 
of time as old Marco. He hurried his cap- 
tive through the house, up two flights of 
stairs to a back room, and thrust him into a 
dark closet, the door of which he both locked 
and bolted. 

Joe was in a state of semi-unconsciousness 
for some moments after being left alone. 
The Italian had kept such a firm hold upon 
his throat- that he could hardly breathe, and 
the relief experienced when this was relaxed, 
prevented him from understanding imme- 
diately what this sudden change of prisons 
meant. 

The true condition of affairs came to his 
mind in a short time, however, and he kicked 
at the door and screamed until all his 
strength was exhausted. He knew now 
that old Marco was making his house ready 
for a visit from the police, and even if Dick 


TOO LATE. 


93 


should deliver the message to Tom or Slip, 
their efforts to release him would be in vain, 
since after the padrone showed that the 
charges against him were false, nothing 
more could be done. 

His hands had not been unbound; but 
this comparatively trifling source of discom- 
fort was not heeded amid the overwhelming 
grief caused by the thought that the steps 
taken to insure his escape, which he had 
believed so certain of success, would result 
only in rendering his condition more hope- 
less. He was plunged into an apathy of 
despair which prevented him from heeding 
the passage of time, and when the door was 
opened again to admit Guiseppe, he had no 
idea whether he had been in this second 
prison one hour or six. 

The poor boy’s first thought was that the 
Italian had come to flog him, yet he showed 
no additional signs of fear. The pain in 
his heart was so great that bodily suffering 
would have been light by comparison. 


94 


TOO LATE. 


But the whip was not to be used this 
time. The padrone’s assistant had a small 
bundle of clothing in his arms, and his task 
was to so far change the little captive’s per- 
sonal appearance that he would not be rec- 
ognized by his friends. 

The boys hands were untied, and his huge 
coat taken from him to be replaced by a 
short velveteen jacket. His shoes were 
exchanged for well-worn boots, a broad- 
brimmed, ragged felt hat was placed upon 
his head, and the costume was complete. 

After this had been done Guiseppe took 
the precaution of tying Joe’s hands behind 
him once more, and then the work of ren- 
dering it impossible for him to make any 
outcry was begun. 

With a quick gesture which showed that 
he had had long experience, Guiseppe thrust 
a roll of cloth between the boy’s teeth, and 
over it he tied a gaudily-colored handker- 
chief in such a manner that the gag and 
lower portion of his face was concealed. 


TOO LATE. 


95 


After the felt hat had been pulled down to 
cover the forehead it would have required 
quite a critical examination at very short 
range to identify this apparent street-musi- 
cian who was suffering from the toothache, 
as Little Joe, the newsboy. 

“You are to go out with me,” the Italian 
said, after the transformation had been 
affected in what he considered a satisfactory 
manner. “ The master thinks your health 
will be better in the country. If, when we 
get into the street, you walk close by my 
side, all will be well ; but if you try to run 
away, or raise your hand to try to take off 
that pretty handkerchief, I will beat you 
worse than Marco ever thought of doing. 
Now, come along.” 

Of course Joe could make no reply while 
the gag was in his mouth, and he obeyed 
the instructions given for the very good 
reason that he was literally dragged down 
the stairs. 

On arriving at the lower floor Guiseppe 


96 


TOO LATE. 


slung over his shoulder an organ which was 
found near the door, and, repeating the 
threat, untied the cord from Joes wrists, 
grasping him firmly by the right hand as 
he started out through the court toward the 
street. 

Although he was in the open air the little 
fellow was nearly as helpless as while con- 
fined in the coal-hole. His master held him 
in such a manner that it was impossible to 
break loose, and there was no opportunity 
to carry out his rapidly conceived plan of 
pulling the gag from his mouth when they 
were near an officer, for Guiseppe took good 
care to cross the street whenever he saw 
one approaching. 

In this manner they continued up Crosby 
Street to Bleecker, and on turning the cor- 
ner Joe saw Tom and Slip, one each side of 
a policeman, coming toward him hardly 
more than half a block away. 

Guiseppe was on the point of going in 
the direction of Broadway, when all oppor- 


TOO LATE. 


97 


tunity of attracting attention would be lost, 
and Joe determined on one supreme effort re- 
gardless of the result. Swinging half around 
that the organ might not shut him out from 
view, with a quick movement he pulled the 
handkerchief from his mouth. Before it 
was possible to remove the gag the Italian 
caught him by the throat, taking good care 
to act as if he was in sport lest some of the 
pedestrians should interfere, and, throwing 
him against the building, held him as in a 
grasp of iron while he quickly replaced the 
handkerchief. 

It was done so adroitly that any one close 
at hand would hardly have been able to 
detect the gag during the few seconds it 
was exposed to view, and all the while 
Guiseppe chattered in the Italian language 
and laughed as if he and his companion 
were having the jolliest kind of a lark. 

Poor Little Joe ! He could see his friends 
when they turned down Crosby Street quickly 
as if impatient to effect his release, and he 


9 8 


TOO LATE. 


knew that but for the man who was choking 
him so cruelly he would soon have been 
free, while even now, with those who were 
searching for him not more than twenty 
yards away, he was unable to make the 
least outcry. 

“ Dare to try that game again and I will 
kill you!” Guiseppe said, with the smile 
still on his lips, as the rescuing party were 
concealed from view by the buildings, and 
he released his hold of the boy’s throat to 
seize him by the hand once more. “ Come 
on quickly, if you wish to live.” 

Perhaps the poor fellow had no desire 
to live such a life as would be his if he 
remained in the custody of this brutal mas- 
ter; but he obeyed meekly because bewil- 
dered by grief. Like one dazed he walked 
by Guiseppe’s side toward the North river, 
each step taking him further from his 
friends, and every minute increasing his 
despair. All idea of trying to make an 
escape had fled, and he permitted him- 


TOO LATE. 


99 


self to be led on as if it was by his own 
desire. 

Straight across the city to the Hoboken 
ferry the two went, one taking no heed of 
his steps, and the other looking well satisfied 
because of his success in evading the offi- 
cers. On the boat Guiseppe and his pri- 
soner stood near the after rail, the former 
with his arm thrown around Joe’s neck in 
apparently an affectionate manner, but really 
to prevent him from making any signs of 
distress, and when the opposite shore was 
reached they went on to the slip far in the 
rear of the other passengers. 

If Joe thought the journey was ended he 
soon learned of his mistake, for the Italian 
continued on through the city, and not until 
they were in the sparsley-settled portion of 
the suburbs did he release his hold or speak. 
Then he said jeeringly: 

“ Do you think now that it is better to 
obey, or will you try once more to run away 
from your dear friend, Guiseppe ? ” 


IOO 


TOO LATE. 


Joe made no reply ; be had learned his 
own weakness as compared with the Italian’s 
strength and cunning. 

“ I will tie you as I would a monkey, 
though there should be a leather collar 
around your neck,” Guiseppe continued, as 
he took the cord from his pocket and fas- 
tened it tightly on Joe’s wrist. “ Now, you 
can walk ahead, but not behind, and if you 
do not come to my side when we meet any 
one, I shall pull the rope very hard.” 

Joe plodded wearily along after this change 
in the manner of marching had been made. 
It was some slight relief to be free from the 
vice-like hand, even though the rope did cut 
into the flesh. The afternoon was rapidly 
drawing to a close; already were the long 
shadows of the trees thrown across the dusty 
road, and yet Guiseppe gave no sign of call- 
ing a halt. 

On and on until the twilight distorted 
fences and bushes into fantastic figures, and 
the twinkling lights gleaming like tiny stars 


TOO LATE. 


IOI 


from the windows of the cottages, mocked 
the poor little captive with promises of rest 
and rescue if he could but succeed in mak- 
ing his condition known to those who had 
lighted them. The darkness increased until 
the mantle of night shut out the last ves- 
tiges of day, and then Joe fancied they had 
left the highway for some less frequented 
road. The rope was drawn tightly now, 
and his captor was forced at times to drag 
him along, for fatigue made his limbs heavy, 
and caused him to stumble even when the 
path was free from obstacles. 

That Guiseppe was well acquainted with 
this portion of the country was shown as he 
turned abruptly into the fields, making his 
way through bushes and over fences, driv- 
ing Joe before him, for a distance of forty 
or fifty yards when he halted under a dilap- 
idated roof or shed such as farmers some- 
times build over haystacks. 

“ We will sleep here to-night,” he said, 
“and although you deserve to keep your 


102 


TOO LATE. 


teeth on that mouthful of rags, I am going to 
take them out. To-morrow, if you have 
decided to obey, you will find that walking 
around the country is more pleasant than 
staying in the hot city.” 

When the gag had been removed Guiseppe 
tied Joe’s hands together once more, fasten- 
ing the end of the rope to his own arm. 
Then the weary boy was allowed to lie upon 
the damp ground as best he could ; but his 
troubles were at an end, during a few hours 
at least, for exhaustion summoned slumber 
so quickly that he was on the borders of 
dreamland before the Italian had made his 
preparations for the night. 


CHAPTER VII. 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 

accustomed as Joe had been to sleeping 
in the lumber-yard and looking upon a dry 
board as something to be considered a lux- 
ury in the way of a bed, this camp, which 
consisted only of a roof, perfumed with the 
odor of flowers and having close at hand a 
frog orchestra to furnish lullaby music, was 
all that could have been desired as a means 
of inducing slumber. But in addition to 
these natural advantages, the weariness of 
body was stronger than the grief in his 
heart, and he did not open his eyes until the 
birds had well begun their morning hymn 
of praise. 

Guiseppe was yet asleep; but Joe was not 
in a condition to take any advantage of 
his keeper’s unconsciousness, for the rope 

103 


104 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 


around his wrists prevented him from leav- 
ing his undesirable companion. 

The pure, odorous air, the repose which 
had refreshed him wonderfully, and the 
knowledge that he was no longer confined 
in old Marco’s dwelling with scenes of suf- 
fering everywhere around, served to make 
him more cheerful than at any time since 
finding himself a prisoner in the Italian 
quarter. The fact that Slippey understood 
the reason of his absence lessened his 
troubles decidedly, for he believed both 
Alice and Doctor would be taken care of 
by his friends, and the situation no longer 
seemed so utterly hopeless. 

Surely there would be some opportunity 
to escape if they remained in the country 
any length of time, he reasoned, as he lis- 
tened to the birds, and he resolved to appear 
very submissive when Guiseppe awakened ; 
but be on the alert for the first chance to 
give him the slip. 

Joe was not permitted to enjoy the luxury 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 


105 


of being thus comparatively alone many 
moments ; the feathered musicians soon 
aroused old Marco’s assistant, and the beau- 
ties of nature had not sufficient charm to 
cause him to remain in the fields any longer 
than was absolutely necessary. 

“ Come, get up ; it’s time to see how much 
money we can make,” he said, as he gave a 
vicious twitch to the rope, and Joe replied 
cheerfully: 

“ I’ve only been waitin’ for you.” 

Guiseppe stared at him a moment, sur- 
prised by this decided change in his man- 
ner, and then he said, as if angry because 
the boy’s wretchedness had disappeared : 

“So! You are beginning to think it is 
best to obey, eh ? ” 

“If I’ve got to go ’round with a hand- 
organ that’s all there is to it,” and Joe 
scrambled to his feet as best he could while 
his hands were tied. 

Guiseppe arose more slowly, slung the 
instrument over his shoulder, and appeared 


106 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 

to be considering some weighty question. 
As a matter of fact he was making up his 
mind whether the prisoner deserved any 
breakfast, and perhaps for the only time in 
his life he was inclined to be reasonably 
kind toward one in his power. 

“ Eat this,” he said, taking a stale biscuit 
from his pocket. “ If you have found out 
that the best way is to do as the master 
commands, it won’t be long before you can 
go back to the other boys.” 

This was exactly what Joe did not want 
to do, for once in the city with so many to 
watch him, there would be but few chances 
to escape. He was careful not to let his 
companion know why he was so cheerful, 
however, and took the dry bread with such 
an air of thankfulness that Guiseppe believed 
he had already been reduced to a state of 
submission. 

“ I shall take the rope off now,” he said, 
suiting the action to the words; “but re- 
member that if you once try to get away, I 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 


IO7 


will strike with this till every bone in your 
body is broken.” 

He shook the heavy stick which was used 
as a rest for the organ; but Joe apparently 
gave no heed to the threatening gesture. 
He was decidedly hungry, and, until a better 
opportunity should present itself, had no 
idea of trying to escape ; therefore he walked 
on meekly by the Italian’s side out through 
the fields into the main road, when the work 
of the day was at once begun. 

A house in front of which several children 
were playing stood at the corner of the high- 
way, and here Guiseppe stopped. He gave 
Joe a tin cup as he began turning the crank 
of the organ, and said in a low tone: 

“When you go for money I shall watch 
every motion. Should the people speak, 
shake your head as if you do not understand, 
for if I see your lips move once this stick 
will fall on your back twice.” 

Joe nodded his head carelessly, and when, 
after a few moments, the musician motioned 


io8 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 


for him to go toward the gate, he walked 
forward obediently, but mentally resolving 
that he would give no heed to the threats 
when there was a favorable opportunity to 
appeal for help. 

At first the woman who came to the door 
of the cottage paid no attention to the out- 
stretched cup; but after looking at his thin, 
pale face which appeared even more pinched 
and wan than it really was because of the 
big, brown eyes, she disappeared for an 
instant to return with three pennies and a 
large slice of sweet, fresh bread thickly cov- 
ered with meat. 

Joe was on the point of thanking her for 
the gift ; but fortunately he remembered 
what the result would be in case Guiseppe, 
who had come nearer the gate, should see 
his lips move, and he lifted the ragged hat 
in token of gratitude. 

A low, sharp command from the Italian 
caused him to retreat toward the organ ; 
but he ate the bread greedily lest it should 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 


109 


be taken from him, and a scowl on Gulseppe’s 
face told that save for this precaution he 
might have lost the palatable food. 

This first visit was repeated several times 
before noon. Joe was looked upon as de- 
serving of sympathy at many places where 
otherwise they would have been turned away 
empty-handed, and Guiseppe soon learned 
that old Marco had gotten a prize when he 
carried away this boy whose face was so 
well calculated to excite pity. 

Knowing that the Italian would not dare 
to prevent him from eating while others 
were near, Joe took for his share of the food 
given him, as much as he desired, and the 
remainder was delivered up to Guiseppe, 
who placed it carefully in his pocket evi- 
dently with the intention of carrying at least 
a portion back to New York. 

This wandering around from house to 
house was not at all unpleasant to the boy 
who did not remember ever having been 
in the country before ; but the shame of 


I IO 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 


begging for such a purpose distressed him 
exceedingly. He knew that those who gave 
him alms did so believing it to to be a char- 
ity, when in reality the miserly Marco was 
the one benefited, and had so much not 
depended on making Guiseppe believe the 
life not actually distasteful, there were many 
times when he would have protested against 
receiving the money. 

At noon even the Italian was tired, for 
they had tramped many miles despite the 
frequent halts, and a shady nook in a grove 
by the side of the Passaic river looked most 
rest-inviting. 

“We will stop here awhile,” Guiseppe 
said, as he slipped the strap of the organ 
from his shoulder, and threw himself upon 
the velvety moss, after motioning Joe to sit 
directly in front of him. “ We have done 
good work, and can afford to wait until it 
grows cooler. What do you think now ? 
Should not Marco’s boys be happy when 
they have so little work ? ” 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 


I I I 


“ It ain’t very bad,” Joe said evasively, as 
he laid at full length on the grass, wonder- 
ing if he would be able to find his way back 
in case he succeeded in effecting his escape. 

“ And if we return you would be willing 
to learn how to use the fiddle so that you 
might go out like this every day ? ” 

“ I’d do most anything rather than stay 
shut up in the house,” and Joe spoke with 
an emphasis now because he was telling the 
truth. 

“ Then we shall see the boys again to- 
morrow night,” Guiseppe said, as if believ- 
ing he was imparting what would be wel- 
come information. 

“ To-morrow! ” Joe exclaimed, starting up 
in surprise. “ Are you going back so 
soon ? ” 

“ Why not ? Isn’t it better to sleep on a 
soft bed in the house than on the ground ? ” 

“ It’s nice out here, that’s all,” and Joe 
laid down again as the old feeling of despair 
entered into his heart. He had come to 


I 12 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 


believe that they would remain in the 
country until he could so far succeed in 
gaining Guiseppe’s confidence that he might 
see a chance to run away ; but return to the 
city meant death to all these hopes. 

‘ If you do as Marco commands, it will 
not be long before you can go out every 
day, and have a home which is warm in the 
winter, with plenty to eat.” 

Then Guiseppe painted in glowing colors 
the happy life which it was possible to lead 
under the old padrone’s guardianship, until 
the soft summer breeze, the droning of 
insects and rippling of waters caused his 
eyes to close in slumber. 

Joe had paid no attention to the alluring 
descriptions the Italian was giving him, for 
he knew by experience how false they were, 
and, being thus inattentive, was not aware 
his cruel master was asleep until the noise 
of heavy breathing arrested his attention. 

Then rising quickly but cautiously on his 
elbow, he looked steadily at his enemy until 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. I I 3 

becoming satisfied that he was really in the 
land of dreams, and not shamming, as he at 
first half suspected. 

On either hand the yellow road stretched 
away in the distance until it was lost to 
view amid the trees ; but no dwelling could 
be seen. If one had been near he would 
have attempted an escape immediately, in 
the hope of gaining it and appealing to the 
occupants for protection before Guiseppe 
could overtake him; but the chance of win- 
ning in a long race seemed very slight. 

“ I s’pose I’d better try it,” he said hes- 
itatingly to himself, as he glanced around 
quickly in the vain hope that some traveller 
might be near. “ If I wait till to-morrow it 
will be too late, an’ he may not leave me 
untied when he lays down again.” 

Another look at the sleeping man’s face 
decided the question. He resolved to make 
the attempt on the slight hope of getting so 
far away before Guiseppe awakened that a 
chase would be useless ; but he knew that 


I 14 a DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 

the race could not be a long one unless he 
gained a decided advantage at the start. 

With his eyes fixed on the Italian he 
arose slowly and softly to his feet. Then 
removing the velveteen jacket and the stout 
boots that there might be the least possible 
impediment to his movements, he stole out 
toward the road, picking his way carefully 
among the dead leaves and decaying twigs 
without arousing the sleeper. 

There was no time now for hesitation ; 
his heart was thumping so loudly that it 
seemed to him the noise could be heard 
many yards away, and he set off down the 
road, stealing along on tiptoe until the halt- 
ing-place was left several rods behind, when 
he bounded forward at full speed. 

Just at that moment a big fly, which had 
been hovering over Guiseppe’s face, settled 
down on the sharp nose with a vicious bite 
which caused the sleeper to open his eyes 
very quickly, and the first thing he saw was 
the velveteen jacket. 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. I 1 5 

Joe had hardly gotten what he would 
have called a good start had he been en- 
gaged in a friendly race, when he heard the 
Italian call angrily : 

“ Come back, or I’ll flog you to death ! ” 

For a single second he slackened his 
speed, knowing that Guiseppe could soon 
overtake him, his limbs almost deprived of 
strength at the thought of the punishment 
which would be his whether he returned vol- 
untarily or was captured; but he renewed 
his efforts as he muttered between his 
tightly-closed teeth : 

“ I shan’t get it much worse anyway, an’ 
somebody may come along.” 

Bowing his head that he might see the 
road more plainly, and thus avoid any obsta- 
cles, he darted on, fear lending speed to his 
feet, while the sound of heavy steps in the 
rear told that the race had begun in earnest. 
On and on he went giving no heed save to 
that which lay before him, and praying, 
oh, so earnestly, that some traveller might 


I 1 6 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 

appear, until the panting of his pursuer 
could be heard close behind. 

Turning ever so slightly he saw Guiseppe 
within a dozen yards, and rapidly closing up 
the distance. To proceed meant capture 
in a few moments at the longest, and, hardly 
conscious of having done so, he turned 
sharply to the left toward the river. 

Straight on he continued, despairing now 
that any one would come to his assistance, 
and with the Italian’s heavy breathing sound- 
ing close in his ears. Nearer and nearer he 
approached the bank, which at this point 
was ten or twelve feet above the surface of 
the water, and with Guiseppe diminishing 
the distance very rapidly. 

As he gained the edge of the shore, the 
pursuer’s hand was already stretched out to 
seize him. To stop now for the merest 
fraction of time was to be again made a 
captive, and he plunged into the water with- 
out hesitation, Guiseppe shouting in baffled 
rage as he was forced to make strenuous 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. I I 7 

exertions to prevent himself from falling 
into the stream. 

Joe was not considered an expert swim- 
mer by his friends. He was in the habit of 
diving off the pier adjoining the ferry-dock 
in company with Slip and Tom whenever 
the police were not near enough to prevent 
such prohibited amusement; but he had 
never been able to equal his companions 
either in speed or endurance. 

In a profuse perspiration as he was the 
first chill nearly deprived him of breath ; 
but knowing full well what the result would 
be if the attempt was a failure, he mentally 
braced himself for the struggle, and swam 
under water as long as possible before com- 
ing to the surface. 

Guiseppe was on the bank in a towering 
rage, and at the first appearance of the fugi- 
tive fired a volley of rocks with, perhaps, mur- 
derous intention. Anger rendered his aim 
very uncertain, however, and Joe dove again 
after inflating his lungs, coming up the 


Il8 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 

second time so far from the shore that he 
was in little danger of being hit by the 
missiles which the infuriated Italian contin- 
ued to throw. 

“ He can’t swim, that’s certain,” the fugi- 
tive said to himself, trying to take advan- 
tage of Tom Brady’s teachings by striking 
out with long steady strokes. “ If I can last 
as far as the other shore he’ll have a hard 
run to catch me.” 

The river seemed very broad ; he did not 
feel buoyant as when in the salt water, and 
the icy cold was benumbing his limbs ; but 
there was no thought of returning. 

“ I’d rather drown than go back,” he said 
to himself as he tried to shake off the faint- 
ness which was creeping over him; but as 
the minutes passed his stroke became more 
feeble, and it was just when all hope of 
escape had fled that he felt the bed of the 
stream beneath his feet. 

He had only sufficient strengh to wade 
ashore before he fell unconscious on the 


A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. 


II 9 

1 


sand, and Guiseppe ran swiftly down the 
road toward the bridge, regardless of his 
organ, as if he believed it would be possible 
to cross the river and reach the fugitive ere 
he recovered. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 

It was necessary to travel nearly a mile 
from the scene of the noonday halt to the 
bridge which crossed the river, and then as 
far again to where Joe lay on the shore like 
one dead. Yet Guiseppe set out at full 
speed, leaving his organ behind him, as if 
it was of so much less value than the capt- 
ure of the boy, that he could well afford to 
run the risk of losing it. 

Fortunately for Joe’s hope of escape he 
quickly recovered consciousness. The Ital- 
ian could hardly have reached the bridge 
when he raised himself up and looked 
around for some signs of the enemy ; but 
saw none, greatly to his surprise. 

“ I wonder if I’ve been layin’ here so long 
that he’s give it up as a bad job, an’ gone 


120 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


I 2 I 


home ? ” he asked himself, as he gazed in- 
tently at the opposite bank, and just as it 
seemed certain that such must be the case, 
he saw the organ. The instrument was so 
far away that at first it was difficult to dis- 
tinguish it clearly, and while he sat on the 
sand looking across the river, the noise of 
footsteps on the shore below, not more than 
an hundred yards away, caused him to turn 
his head. 

For an instant it seemed as if the sight of 
Guiseppe as he came at full speed had de- 
prived Joe of his senses. During several 
seconds he gazed in helpless terror at the 
Italian ; but after that brief time of fear and 
hesitation he was ready to continue the 
flight. 

This side of the river, like the other, was 
covered for some distance with a reasonably 
heavy growth of timber, and he obeyed the 
first impulse by plunging into the grove 
where the underbrush was thickest. 

The exertion of swimming, as well as the 


122 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


chill caused by the water, had unfitted him 
for anything like a long race, and of this 
fact he became painfully aware after running 
two or three dozen yards. His knees bent 
under him, and a mist swam before his eyes 
until it seemed as if trees and bushes were 
engaged in the most dizzy dance, and when 
he could no longer make his way through 
them he crawled on his hands and knees 
among a tangled mass of shrubbery, heed- 
less of the fact that the hiding-place thus 
selected at random was in a marsh, or that 
he was nearly covered with mud and water. 

It seemed as if a long time passed before 
he again had possession of his faculties suffi- 
ciently to be fully aware of all that was tak- 
ing place ; but it could not have been very 
many moments, for the first he heard was 
the noise made by Guiseppe as he forced his 
way among the bushes. If it had been 
possible Joe would have leaped to his feet 
and continued the flight, thus probably in- 
suring his own capture ; but he was unable 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


123 


to do any more than lift his head to listen, 
and in a few moments the sounds died away 
in the distance. 

Even then Joe did not dare make any 
move for the purpose of bettering his con- 
dition ; he would have been perfectly will- 
ing to lie there in the mud all night if by 
so doing his escape could be insured. It 
seemed singular to him that he should feel 
sick and distressed when he had been so 
wonderfully successful. His head ached as 
if it were bursting, and the nausea was 
so great as to make him very faint, try- 
ing as he did to repress the retching which 
might betray his whereabouts. 

Joe could not have told whether an hour 
or only ten minutes had passed when he 
heard a noise on the shore, and by turn- 
ing his head slightly he was able to see 
through the foliage the form of his pursuer. 
Guiseppe had come out of the thicket and 
was retracing his steps, having evidently 
given up the chase. It needed but one 


124 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


glance at his face to see that the Italian was 
in a towering rage ; he gesticulated furiously, 
and gave free vent in his native tongue to 
what the listener believed were threats ; but 
made no further effort to hunt for the run- 
away. 

The fear which the sight of this over- 
grown boy caused Joe was greater even than 
his illness, for he heeded neither the pain 
nor the nausea until he saw Guiseppe on the 
opposite bank once more. Then he crept 
out from the mud, and hiding in the bushes 
nearer the river, watched until his enemy 
started down the road with his organ on 
his back. 

It was yet possible that he had simply 
gone back for the instrument and intended 
to renew the search; but Joe could do no 
more than crouch a trifle further in the 
thicket, for his distress of body, half forgot- 
ten in the excitement, had now increased. 

He shivered with the cold ; but did not 
dare to remove his wet clothing lest the 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


125 


Italian should come upon him unawares, 
and wretched in body although decidedly 
relieved in mind, he lay hidden among the 
bushes until the afternoon came to an 
end. 

During this time he had heard nothing 
save the shouts of teamsters from the road 
as they encouraged the tired horses. It was 
possible now for him to walk, and, with the 
exception of being cold, he felt none the 
worse because of the exposure ; but con- 
cluding it was not yet safe to venture out, 
he resolved to remain where he was until 
morning. 

The night seemed long, but it passed 
more quickly than when he and Tonio had 
been locked in the coal-cellar, and with the 
first gray light of day he was ready to begin 
the task of finding his way back to New 
York. He needed exercise, for having 
neither coat nor boots the morning air felt 
like a wintry blast, and he started through 
the woods on a line with the river, walk- 


126 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


ing as rapidly as his stiffened limbs would 
permit. 

Joe’s progress was naturally slow, for it is 
neither a pleasant nor a painless task to go 
through the underbrush barefooted, and 
he did not dare venture on the road lest 
Guiseppe should be lying in wait to catch 
him. 

The thicket came to an end near the 
bridge, and it was necessary to make a long 
detour across the fields ; but before proceed- 
ing more than half a mile he understood 
that some change of plan must be made. 
The stubble cut his feet, and he was sadly 
in need of food. 

“ It would take me a month to get home 
this way,” he said to himself, crouching 
behind a fence near a dwelling at which he 
had been very hospitably received on the 
previous day. “ I’m goin’ right up to that 
house an’ tell ’em about my runnin’ away. 
They wouldn’t be likely to help Guiseppe, an’ 
they can’t any more’n make me clear out.” 


JOE FINDS A REFUGE. 












AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


£27 


Keeping a sharp watch of the road lest 
the Italian should be near, Joe crept up to 
the farm yard, and the farmer’s wife shrieked 
aloud in fear as she saw his pale face sud- 
denly appear from behind the corner of the 
barn while she was milking. 

“ Please don’t be mad,” he said piteously, 
as he came toward the woman, his feet 
bleeding, his face drawn with deep lines of 
pain, and his clothing covered with mud. 
“ I run away from that /talian you saw 
yesterday — he stole me, an’ was goin’ to 
make me fiddle for money — an’ I’m ’fraid 
he’s ’round somewhere now huntin’ for me.” 

“ Who are you ? ” the woman asked, as 
she ceased her work and took him kindly by 
the hand. 

“ I ain’t anybody but Little Joe. You see 
I couldn’t walk through the fields ’cause it 
made my feet sore, an’ I thought p’rhaps 
you’d help me.” 

“ Of course I will, you poor child ; and if 
that organ-grinder ever comes around here 


128 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


he’ll wish he was somewhere else besides in 
Jersey. I’m going to put you in bed until 
breakfast is ready, and then my husband 
will decide what is best for you to do.” 

She had led him into the house while 
speaking, and was ascending the stairs when 
Joe said timidly: 

“ I’m so dirty that I wouldn’t be fit to get 
into the poorest kind of a bed. The floor is 
good enough if you want me to lay down, or 
I misfht 2:0 out to the barn.” 

“ You shall get into the best tick of feath- 
ers I’ve got, for you don’t look able to sit 
up, let alone trying to walk.” 

Joe was so completely bewildered by this 
kind reception that he could make no fur- 
ther protest, and a few moments later he 
was in a bed such as he had never seen 
before. 

“You shall stay here till you’re rested,” 
the good woman said, as she turned to leave 
the room, “ and then we’ll see how you can 
get to New York.” 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


I29 


“ It feels so soft an’ smells so nice that 
I could lie here all day,” the little fellow 
replied in a grateful tone, and when the 
farmer’s wife was ready to resume her inter- 
rupted milking she was obliged to wipe her 
eyes several times, such a suspicious quan- 
tity of moisture had gathered in them. 

The sun had but just shown his face in the 
eastern sky when Joe made the appeal for 
aid, and he rode high in the heavens when 
the boy was awakened by a sound of foot- 
steps on the stairs. 

“Was you cornin’ after me?” he asked in 
a loud tone, and as the woman entered the 
room he said, much as if making an apology, 
“ I’m ’fraid I’ve been here too long. Some- 
how I couldn’t help goin’ to sleep, an’ now 
I know why fellers what have nice homes 
like to stay in bed so late.” 

“ If you choose, there’s nothing to prevent 
you from remaining there until to-morrow 
morning; but I think it would be better to 
come down-stairs for dinner.” 


130 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


“You’re awful good to me, Mrs. — Mrs. 
— ” and Joe hesitated. 

“Webster, my name is Webster,” the 
good lady said with a smile, as she smoothed 
Joe’s hair back from his brow; “but don’t 
talk about my being good. I should be 
hard-hearted if I couldn’t do this much for a 
little sick boy like you.” 

“Oh, I ain’t sick!” and Joe raised his 
head quickly to show how active he was ; 
but a sharp pain in his chest caused him to 
lie down again very suddenly. “ Stayin’ out 
in the woods all night didn’t make me feel 
very good. I’ll be all right as soon’s I get 
up.” 

“ There is water in the next room, and 
after you have taken a bath come down- 
stairs where I’ve got a nice piece of roast 
chicken for your dinner.” 

“ By gracious ! but you are heapin’ the 
good things up for me!” Joe exclaimed, as 
Mrs. Webster left the room, and then he 
moved around very quickly that his hostess 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


131 

might not be kept waiting any longer than 
was absolutely necessary. 

After partaking of what seemed to be a 
veritable feast, he told his simple story in 
reply to Mrs. Webster’s questions, and con- 
cluded by saying: 

“ Of course I’ve got to get back jest as 
quick as I can so’s to see to Alice an’ the 
dog, an’ to earn money for the doctor; but 
I’m kinder ’fraid I’ll meet Guiseppe some- 
where on the road.” 

“ Don’t worry about that, for my husband 
will carry you into town on his team to- 
morrow, when he goes to market. He’ll pre- 
vent the Italians from making any trouble, 
and I’m going to give you some money with 
which to pay the doctor so that you can get 
some medicine for yourself.” 

“ There wouldn’t be any use in that,” 
Joe said, laughing merrily at the idea of 
his being looked upon as an invalid. “ I’ll 
get awful fat when I’m at work once 
more.” 


13.2 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


Mrs. Webster shook her head gravely as 
she asked: 

“ Will you tell him that I say you need 
medicine ? ” 

“ Of course I will,” was the prompt reply. 
“ If you’d ask me to stand on my head for 
an hour I’d do it if it almost broke my 
neck.” 

During the remainder of the day it 
seemed to Joe that he must be in a land 
of enchantment. He had no fear that Gui- 
seppe would dare to molest him there, and 
walked back and forth from the barn to the 
house as if his pleasure was too great to 
permit of remaining quiet. 

If anything had been needed to make 
him appreciate Mrs. Webster’s kindness 
more fully, that which she did when the 
afternoon was about half spent would have 
been sufficient. 

She was in one of the chambers some 
time, leaving him alone, and on coming 
down-stairs said, while he wondered why 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


133 


her eyes looked red as if she had been 
weeping : 

“ I had a little boy once, Josey, and he 
was not much larger than you when God 
sent for him. I did think I could never 
part with anything which belonged to him ; 
but now I realize that it would be wicked to 
keep what others need. In the room where 
you are to sleep to-night I have laid out a 
suit of his clothes, and you are to put them 
on in the morning.” 

Joe was silent for a moment; although it 
had never been his good fortune to under- 
stand what a mother’s love is, he realized 
from the tremulous voice something of the 
sorrow in her heart, and he said as he laid 
his hand affectionately on hers : 

“ Your boy was lucky to have such a nice 
mother all for his own.” 

After that there was a long silence, and 
then Mrs. Webster said in a more cheerful 
tone : 

“ I would like to have you come out here 


134 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


very often, Josey, and you can bring the dog 
when he’s able to walk. My husband will 
explain where to find him on market-days, 
and you must pay us a visit soon, for I shall 
be anxious to know how all your family 
are.” 

“You won’t want to see me half as much 
as I’ll want to come,” Joe said, and as his 
hostess left the room to attend to some 
work he crept softly up-stairs to admire the 
first suit of “whole ” clothes he ever owned. 

It was yet dark next morning when he 
was awakened, and, after a hurried breakfast, 
he clambered up on the huge wagon, Mrs. 
Webster saying, as she put something into 
his hand and kissed him : 

“ Be sure to come again before many 
days.” 

“ I’ll be here as quick as ever I can, an’ 
every minute of the time I’ll keep thinkin’ 
how good you’ve been to me.” 

Then the farmer chirruped to the patient 
horses; Joe pushed himself back on the 


AN HOSPITABLE SHELTER. 


135 


high seat lest the jolting of the wagon 
should throw him off, while he held tightly 
to that which Mrs. Webster gave him, won- 
dering what it was, and the journey to the 
city had begun. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE ARRIVAL. 

The first portion of the journey was made 
before daylight, for Farmer Webster started 
at two o’clock in the morning that he might 
arrive at the market by sunrise, and during 
this time Joe had quite as much as he could 
do to hold himself on the high seat which 
swayed, shook, or rocked violently to and 
fro according to the speed of the horses 
until, as he afterwards told Slip Johnson, he 
sometimes feared his “ head would be snapped 
off, so he kept his neck kinder limber” to 
prevent such an accident. 

When the first gray light of dawn ap- 
peared in the sky Joe examined that which 
Mrs. Webster gave him, for he had kept a 
firm hold of it during all the time when he 
was tossed about on the wagon-box like a 
136 


THE ARRIVAL. 


137 


mariner in a storm, and to his great surprise 
it proved to be a two-dollar bank-note. 

He looked at it in silent amazement for 
several minutes, Farmer Webster watching 
him closely all the while, and, after folding 
it carefully, tucked it safely away in one 
corner of his trousers’ pocket. Then he 
gazed at his new clothes, hat and boots, and 
after the most critical examination pushed 
himself still further back on the seat, as he 
exclaimed in a half-whisper: 

“ Well, by gracious ! ” 

“ What is it, lad ? ” the farmer asked, as 
he tried to prevent the smile on his face 
from deepening into noisy laughter. 

“It don’t seem’s though this was me,” Joe 
said, after a short pause, “an’ I was won- 
derin’ if Doctor will find me out when I 
show up so swell as this. Did you know I 
had a real shirt on with a stiff front ? ” 

“WelJ, I sorter reckoned that’s what it 
was,” and as Mr. Webster laid his hard, 
brown hand on Joe’s slender fingers the 


I 38 THE ARRIVAL. 

smile disappeared from his lips, leaving 
them drawn and quivering as if for the 
moment he had allowed himself to fancy it 
was his own little boy alive once more. 
Then, after urging the horses from a slow 
walk to a lazy trot, he asked, “ When are 
you cornin’ out to see us two lonesome old 
people ? Mother said you’d promised to 
visit at the farm right often.” 

“Jest as soon as Si is home again. I’ve 
got money enough to pay the doctor for 
fixin’ the dog up, an’ by to-morrow I can 
square off Alice’s board. “ Will it be very 
far to walk out to your house ? ” 

“ Bless your heart, there’s no reason for 
doin’ that! I go in town every Tuesday an’ 
Saturday, an’ by cornin’ down to Vesey- 
street market early in the mornin’ you can 
catch me. I’ll show you where my team 
generally stands, so you’ll make sure of 
seein’ me, rain or shine.” # 

“Then p’rhaps by next Saturday I’ll be 
ready to go out, if you want me so soon.” 


THE ARRIVAL. 


139 


“You can’t come any too quick to please 
us. I’m beginin’ to feel sorry already that 
we didn’t keep you altogether, instead of 
lettin’ you run wild agin in a big city like 
New York.” 

“ Oh, I couldn’t a’ staid any longer this 
time,” Joe replied in a decided tone. “ I’ve 
got to earn money for Alice an’ Doctor, you 
know, an’ I haven’t been home since Monday 
night.” 

Then Mr. Webster asked many questions 
relative to his being made prisoner by old 
Marco, and regarding his life, all of which 
required so much time in answering that he 
had hardly concluded when they arrived at 
the ferry. 

Joe half-fancied Guiseppe might be wait- 
ing to intercept him. Although he knew 
the farmer would prevent anything of that 
kind, he breathed more freely when the 
heavy team was brought to a halt in front 
of the market and he had not seen the 
Italian. 


140 


THE ARRIVAL. 


“This is where I always stop,” Mr. Web- 
ster said, as he lifted the boy down from his 
lofty perch, “ an’ I’ll be looking for you next 
Saturday. Now, instead of walkin’ up-town, 

I want you to ride on the elevated railroad, 
an’ then we’ll be sure them organ-grinders 
can’t do any mischief.” 

Joe could not well refuse to do this since 
the farmer and his wife had been so kind, 
although he thought it a clear waste of five 
cents, and after Mr. Webster had shaken 
hands with him so heartily that his fingers 
ached from the pressure, he started up 
Vesey Street, thinking he was a wonderfully 
fortunate boy in finding such good friends. 

The morning trade had but just begun 
when he left the cars at Thirty-fourth Street 
and went across the city at full speed, eager 
to learn how his family had gotten on dur- 
ing his enforced absence. He first visited 
the lumber-yard news-stand, not with any 
expectation that it would be open; but 
because it was the place he looked upon as 


THE ARRIVAL. 


141 

home, and it seemed only natural to go there 
at once. 

To his great surprise he saw, while yet 
nearly half a block away, that business was 
still being carried on in the open-air estab- 
lishment, and his pleasure at having escaped 
was sadly marred by the thought that another 
had taken his place. 

Before it was possible to grieve very 
much, however, he caught a glimpse of the 
new merchant’s face, and then he ran for- 
ward with a shrill cry of joy, for he had 
recognized the well-known, if not beautiful 
features of Slippey. 

Master Johnson looked up quickly as if 
he fancied the voice sounded familiar ; but 
turned away again when he saw no one but a 
remarkably well-dressed boy with whom he 
was quite certain he had not the slightest 
acquaintance. 

“Hi! Slip! Slippey!” Joe shouted as he 
pressed forward yet faster until he stood 
panting and breathless directly in front of 


142 


THE ARRIVAL. 


the news-stand, while his friend stared at 
him in open-mouthed astonishment. 

“Why don’t you say somethin’?” Joe 
demanded, as he reached across the boards 
and seized Slip by the hand. 

“ Cricky ! ” Master Johnson exclaimed, as 
if in reply to the question, and then several 
seconds elapsed before he recovered from 
his astonishment sufficiently to ask, “ Where 
have you been ? ” 

Joe gave a very brief account of his wan- 
derings, and had hardly finished speaking 
when a low whine from the board-pile 
attracted his attention. 

“ Yes, it’s Doctor,” Slip said, in reply to 
the questioning look in Joe’s eyes, and an 
instant later the dog was licking the hands 
of the boy who had saved him from a cruel 
death. 

“ He knows me ; I do believe he knows 
me!” 

“ Of course he does,” Slip said confidently. 
“ If that dog could a’ talked he’d asked 


THE ARRIVAL. 


M3 


every day where you was. I bring him 
down here mornin’s, an’ take him home 
nights. D’yer see how fat he’s gettin’ ? ” 

“ Where’s Alice ? ” Joe asked, as he sat on 
the boards with Doctor in his arms. 

“ Up to my house. When I couldn’t find 
you last Tuesday mornin’, an’ the dog was 
layin’ here lookin’ as if he’d like to tell what 
he knew, we all thought you’d got hurt an’ 
been carried to a hospital. Then mother 
said Alice could stay with us till Si got 
back, or you come ; but after Dick White 
showed up Wednesday with the yarn about 
the /talians, things got lively. Tom an’ I 
knocked right off work, an’ went down with 
the biggest p’liceman the folks at the station- 
house would let us have; but you wasn’t 
there. The old /talian said he didn’t know 
anything about a boy, an’ the cop got mad 
’cause he thought we was foolin’ him. Then 
I give you up for sure; but me an’ Tom 
pounded Bill Dunham till he was sorry for 
what he’d done.” 


144 


THE ARRIVAL. 


“ I wish you hadn’t,” Joe said regretfully. 

“ Why not ? Didn’t he get you in the 
scrape ? ” 

“ He wasn’t meanin’ to do it. Of course 
he couldn’t know anything about the /talians, 
an’ was only tryin’ to drive me away from 
here. Now he’ll be down on me worse’n 
ever.” 

“ He won’t even dare to curl his lip. But 
say, run up to the house while I’m ’tendin’ 
to business, an’ after you come back we’ll go 
round to see the fellers. Tom Brady ’ll jest 
about go outer his skin ’cause your lookin’ 
so fine.” 

“ Hadn’t I better take Doctor with me ? ” 

“ Oh, no, all the fellers know he’s here, an’ 
every one of ’em looks in when I ain’t ’round 
to see if he wants anything.” 

Doctor did not appear well pleased at 
parting with his master so soon, and Joe 
kissed his little brown nose several times 
before he laid him in the box with the 
promise to return very soon. 


/ 

THE ARRIVAL. 


145 


Ten minutes later Joe was telling his 
story to Mrs. Johnson and Alice, both of 
whom were plunged into the same delightful 
state of astonishment by his appearance as 
Slip had been, and it was a long time before 
he succeeded in gratifying their curiosity. 

When this was finally done, he proposed 
to pay Mrs. Johnson one dollar on account of 
Alice’s board ; but she positively refused to 
take anything. 

“ Keep the money,” she said decidedly, 
“and on Monday try to find her a good 
home. She has been sleeping on the lounge 
when she ought to have a comfortable bed, 
and I’m sure you’ll succeed in getting what’s 
needed now that you can pay for it.” 

Joe would have felt better satisfied to 
liquidate what he considered a personal 
debt ; but since this was impossible, he said : 

“ I’m goin’ now, for I want to get to work 
with the afternoon papers; but I’ll be up 
here to-morrow.” 

“ You will come to-night and sleep with 


146 


THE ARRIVAL. 


Walter,” Mrs. Johnson said in a matter-of- 
fact tone. “You are not strong enough to 
stay out-of-doors all the time, and we’ll 
crowd you in some way which will be 
more comfortable than lying on the damp 
boards.” 

It was several seconds before Joe realized 
that Mrs. Johnson referred to Slippey when 
she spoke of “ Walter,” and then he said in 
a voice which was not remarkable for its 
steadiness : 

“ It seems as if everybody was awful nice 
to me lately. The lumber-yard is plenty 
good enough for me ; but I’m ’fraid it’ll be 
kinder rough on these fine clothes to lay 
’round in ’em.” 

“ You will be hurt more than the clothes,” 
Mrs. Johnson said, as she gazed sadly at 
the hectic flush on the sunken cheeks and the 
unnatural brilliancy of his eyes. 

“You’ll come, won’t you, Joe?” Alice 
whispered, and he replied, as he caressed 
her hand : 


THE ARRIVAL. 


147 


“I’ll walk over with Slip — Walter, I 
mean, an’ then we’ll see what’s best to 
do.” 

When he was on the street once more he 
knew from long experience that the morning 
trade in newspapers would not be over for 
some time, and instead of going directly to 
the lumber-yard he started toward Third 
Avenue to make his second and most impor- 
tant business call. 

The veterinary surgeon was in his office 
and at leisure when Joe looked timidly 
through the half-opened door, uncertain 
whether to enter before receiving a special 
invitation. 

“ Hello! Have you come to poke fun at 
me for believing you’d pay that dollar ? ” the 
man asked, as he saw his visitor’s face. 

“Indeed, I haven’t,” Joe replied indig- 
nantly, as he entered. “ I was lugged off 
by a old /talian man, an’ couldn’t come till 
now; but I’ve got the whole of the money.” 

“What makes you so willing to pay the 


THE ARRIVAL. 


K,8 

debt after keeping me out of the cash a 
week ? Is the dog sick an’ in need of 
me ? ” 

“ He looks as if he was ’most well, an’ I 
only want to do what I promised.” 

Joe’s cheeks were flaming red now, for he 
was both grieved and ashamed that the sur- 
geon should think he would not keep his 
agreement. 

“Tell me why you didn’t come before?” 
the man asked, speaking in a more gentle 
tone ; but paying no attention to the money 
which his debtor held toward him. 

Joe told the story of his being detained in 
the Italian quarter and subsequent wander- 
ings, in detail, concluding by saying : 

“ I come right up to pay you jest as soon 
as I had seen Slippey an’ Alice an’ Doctor. 
Mrs. Webster told me to ask you to give me 
some medicine.” 

“ What’s the matter with you ? ” 

“ Nothin’, an’ that’s why I didn’t want to 
speak about it ; but she made me promise.” 


THE ARRIVAL. 


149 


The surgeon looked at him attentively for 
a moment, and then he said slowly : 

“ It ain’t in my line to doctor boys; but I 
reckon good food and a bed to sleep in 
nights will fix you all right. You’ll pick up 
fast enough out at that farm. What do you 
propose to do now ? ” 

“ I’m goin’ to sell papers, an’ when trade 
is dull get the boys to help me find Tonio. 
I don’t know what old Marco did with him 
the day I was taken away by Guiseppe ; but 
somebody ought to try and help him.” 

“ That’s a fact,” the surgeon replied heart- 
ily, “ and if a little shaver like you is willing 
to go around helping dogs, girls and boys, a 
big, overgrown man like me ought to be 
ashamed of not lifting his hands for anybody 
but his own precious self. What time did the 
Italian boys usually come home at night ? ” 

“ When it was dark,” 

“ Then this is what I’ll do. Meet me 
here at twelve o’clock, and we’ll visit police 
headquarters to see what can be done.” 


THE ARRIVAL. 


150 

“Are you goin’ to help me find Tonio? ” 
Joe cried, his eyes opening wide with sur- 
prise and delight. 

“ I’ll make sure that the officers listen to 
your story, and while I can’t claim any 
special interest in your Italian friend, there’ll 
be considerable satisfaction in doing some- 
thing toward breaking up this padrone 
business.” 

“ Then we’ll get Tonio for sure, an’ he’ll 
be pretty near tickled to death if he’s clear 
from old Marco. Say, take the ninety cents 
what I owe, so’s I won’t have to bother you 
every mornin’,” and Joe held out the money 
once more. 

“ I guess I’ll keep you in my debt awhile 
longer,” and the surgeon pushed the money 
from him. “ You need that to pay the little 
girl’s board, and we’ll wait till the dog can 
walk before the bill is settled. If it’s a good 
job I may want more than a dollar.” 

“ But I’d rather pay it now, ’cause that’s 
what Mrs. Webster gave me the money for, 


THE ARRIVAL. 


151 

an’ it wouldn’t be right to use it any other 
way.” 

“ If I don’t choose to take the cash you 
can spend it as you please. Get away now, 
while I attend to some work that ought to 
be done before I go out, and come back at 
twelve o’clock sharp.” 

Joe looked a trifle bewildered as he obeyed 
the gruffly-spoken command, and when he 
arrived at the lumber-yard where fully a 
dozen acquaintances were waiting to greet 
him, he had not decided whether the surgeon 
was really a very ill-tempered old gentleman, 
or was simply trying to make other people 
believe such to be the case. 


CHAPTER X. 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 

Little Joe never fancied he had so many 
friends among the newsboys until this morn- 
ing when twelve had gathered to congratu- 
late him upon having escaped from the old 
padrone’s power, and, what was most gratify- 
ing, they all appeared to be happy at seeing 
him again. 

Never was an audience more attentive 
than this one as he related, for the fourth 
time that morning, all the particulars of his 
imprisonment; they were deeply interested 
in every unimportant detail, and when he 
spoke of the farmer, Slip Johnson said ex- 
citedly : 

“ Now he was a decent kind of an old 
chap. Let’s all go down to the market next 
Tuesday mornin’ an’ load him right up with 
152 


TONIo’s RESCUE. 


153 


papers. Them sort of men oughter be en- 
couraged.” 

“We’re with yer,” Tom Brady replied 
approvingly; “but what’s to hinder our 
cleanin’ that old /talian’s place out for him 
first ? There’s enough of us here to do it, 
an’ Tonio could be let loose.” 

For a moment it seemed as if Tom’s sug- 
gestion would be carried into effect regard- 
less of Joe’s wishes, so excited were the boys 
over the wrongs inflicted upon their friend, 
and not until he had insisted very warmly 
that the matter should be allowed to rest f 
wholly in the surgeon’s hands, did they con- 
sent to forego the pleasure of making re- 
prisals after their own fashion. 

“ Anyhow, we can sneak down to police 
headquarters before Joe an’ the doctor get 
there. Then we’ll foller an’ see the fun,” 
Slip proposed, and with this Joe was forced 
to be content, while the others were satisfied, 
believing that by such an arrangement they 
would have a view of all that took place. 


154 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


Neither Bill Dunham nor any of his friends 
were to be seen during the forenoon. They 
had been frightened on learning how much 
misery Joe was suffering as the result of 
their effort to drive him away, and the flog- 
ging which Slip and Tom administered after 
the visit to the Italian quarter failed of its 
purpose, caused them to fear a repetition in 
case they were caught on the day of their 
victim’s return. 

Joe could make no complaint that time 
passed slowly during the forenoon. Until 
fifteen minutes before twelve he was busy 
receiving the congratulations of his friends 
and acquaintances, and when he started for 
the surgeon’s office fully eighteen boys went 
at full speed toward police headquarters, 
that there might be plenty of opportunity for 
posting themselves in such positions as would 
be most advantageous for keeping a strict 
watch. 

“ We’ll be there before you an’ the doctor 
are, whether you see us or not,” Slippey 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


155 


said, as he parted with Joe, “an’ we’ll be 
ready to stand right behind both of you 
when the perlice come down on that old 
/talian.” 

“ All right,” was the reply in anything 
rather than a tone of satisfaction. “ You’ll 
be sure not to let the other fellers do what 
the officers wouldn’t like, won’t you, Slip ? 
I’m kinder ’fraid the doctor’ll be mad when 
he finds out that so many are ’round watchin’.” 

“ Don’t bother ’bout us,” was the calm 
reply. “ Nobody’ll know ’less we’re needed 
in case of a row, an’ then we’d show mighty 
quick what we could do.” 

Joe would have been much better pleased 
had the boys remained quietly near the lum- 
ber-yard until his return ; but he understood 
how useless it would be to make any attempt 
at dissuading them from their purpose, and 
as he walked along his mind was filled with 
misgivings. 

A heavy phaeton stood in front of the 
Third-avenue office when Joe arrived, and 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


156 

before he could enter the building the sur. 
geon stepped out on the sidewalk. 

“You’re on time, an’ so am I,” he said, as 
he buttoned his gloves with the greatest 
deliberation. “Jump in, and it won’t be 
many minutes before I’ll land you at head- 
quarters with the trimmest piece of horse- 
flesh you ever rode behind.” 

This was not a very extravagant boast, 
since Farmer Webster’s lazy team was the 
only one with which Joe had a riding ac- 
quaintance ; but thinking the surgeon ex- 
pected him to make some remark on the 
merits of the horse, he said, as he scrambled 
into one corner of the roomy vehicle : 

“ He looks like a nice one.” 

“ Nice ? Why, he’s sound as a dollar, 
and can do his mile in twenty-four without 
raisin’ a hair. Kind as a kitten, well broke, 
an’ money can’t buy him.” 

Joe looked up in bewilderment, under- 
standing not a word of the slang, and the 
man started with what seemed very like 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


157 


astonishment as he noted for the first time 
the flaming spots on the little fellow’s face, 
his short, quick breathing, and the intense 
brilliancy of his eyes. 

“ Are you feeling pretty good to-day ? ” 
he asked in a tone which sounded very 
friendly. 

“ It would be kinder queer if I didn’t,” 
was the quick reply. “ It ain’t many fellers 
what are as lucky as I am.” 

“ I mean are you feeling well ? ” 

“Oh, yes, sir, I’m all right, only you see 
I ain’t used to ridin’, an’ I guess bein’ so 
long on Mr. Webster’s wagon made me 
tired.” 

“ Look here, Joe,” and the surgeon held 
the reins in one hand while he laid the other 
softly on the boy’s shoulder. “ I’m only a 
horse-doctor, and don’t know how to pre- 
scribe for human beings as your friend Mrs. 
Webster fancied from what you probably 
told her. Now, as soon as this job is fin- 
ished I want you to see a physician, and ask 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


158 

him if he thinks you are well enough to 
knock around the streets.” 

Joe looked up with a puzzled expression 
on his face, as if fancying there was some- 
thing in the request which he did not under- 
stand, and then he said slowly : 

“ I’ll do it, of course ; but I don’t need 
any medicine. I s’pose you think I’m sick 
’cause I ain’t fat.” 

“ I don’t say you’re sick ; I only want to 
know what a physician thinks about it. 
Here we are, and now let’s see whether the 
police have got time to attend to such as 
your Italian friends.” 

Rapidly as they had been whirled along, 
the party of would-be spectators were there 
first, for Joe saw at least half a dozen faces 
from as many nooks and corners when he 
jumped out of the carriage, and all of them 
he recognized as belonging to his friends. 

They dodged in and out their places of 
concealment in the most agile manner as if 
to prove their ability to screen themselves 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


159 


from view in case any emergency should 
arise, and Joe felt decidedly uncomfortable 
in mind lest this numerous following should 
provoke the anger of the officers. 

As a matter of course the surgeon was in 
total ignorance of the fact that so many 
sharp eyes were watching his movements, 
and he looked around impatiently for some 
one to hold his horse. Slip Johnson under- 
stood what was wanted, and appearing sud- 
denly from behind a cask, asked innocently, 
as he twisted his face into a variety of queer 
shapes under the impression that he was 
winking at Joe : 

“ Want a boy, sir ? ” 

“Yes; just stand by his head awhile,” the 
surgeon said, as he motioned Joe to follow 
him, and the two had hardly disappeared 
within the building when Slip was sur- 
rounded by all his friends, each of whom 
tried to appear as if he was especially de- 
tailed to watch the horse. 

During the next hour Joe was in a very 


i6o 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


uncomfortable frame of mind. He was led 
from one official to another, and called upon 
to repeat his story until it seemed as if he 
had laid the facts before the entire police 
force, and then, after a long, private conver- 
sation between half a dozen men and the 
surgeon, the latter said to him : 

“You are to stay here until it is time to 
make the descent upon Marco’s house, when 
you will go with the officers. It won’t be 
very pleasant loafing around so long ; but 
you ought to be willing to put up with a 
little inconvenience for the sake of helping 
your friend, Tonio.” 

“ I’ll do anything I can,” Joe replied, and 
before he had an opportunity to ask if he 
might go out a moment, the surgeon left the 
room, saying in an unusually friendly tone : 

“ Come up to see me in the morning, for 
I shall want to know how you succeed.” 

One of the officers led Joe to a room in 
the basement, and there he was left to while 
away the time as best he could with nothing 


TONIO’S RESCUE. l6l 

to occupy his mind save the thought of 
what his friends would think because he had 
not left the building in company with the 
surgeon. 

The hours passed slowly, but not wearily, 
for the knowledge of what was to be accom- 
plished animated him, and the hands of the 
big clock moved steadily on until their posi- 
tion and the gathering gloom in the cheer- 
less room told that the hour for action had 
come. 

“Tired of waiting?” an officer asked, as a 
party of five, all dressed in citizen’s clothes, 
entered, and Joe replied timidly: 

“ I’d be willin’ to stay here a good deal 
longer if I could help Tonio get away.” 

“ Well, it’s time to start now, and if the 
old padrone didn’t get so scared when you 
escaped that he shut up his establishment, 
we shall take your friend out of the den very 
soon. Come with us, and if there should 
happen to be any trouble after we arrive, 
keep close at our heels.” 


162 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


Then the speaker led the way out of the 
building, and on reaching the sidewalk Joe’s 
first care was to look quickly around for the 
boys. 

Scurrying footsteps, and the sight of half 
a dozen pair of heels as their owners vainly 
tried to conceal themselves in the nearest 
hiding-places, told that all the party of self- 
appointed watchers had remained on duty, 
and Joe knew they would not be far away 
when the officers arrived at Crosby Street. 

When they were in the open air the men 
did not walk together ; but separated as if 
each was going in a different direction, and 
Joe asked in astonishment, as he did his 
best to keep pace with the leader: 

“ Are you going there alone ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; we shall find the others close 
around when we need them,” and five min- 
utes later, when they were near old Marco’s 
dwelling, Joe saw the remainder of the offi- 
cers lounging in the immediate vicinity. 

“ Follow me right in,” the man said, as he 


TONIo’s RESCUE. 


163 


made a sign to the others, “ and point out 
that precious Guiseppe, for I want to make 
sure of catching him.” 

It was not without an inward fear that 
Joe walked behind the officer up the stone 
steps into the hallway, for the remembrance 
of what he had suffered in that house 
was yet too fresh in his mind to permit 
of indifference, however strongly he was 
guarded. 

But little ceremony was used in entering 
the room. Two of the policeman had been 
stationed at the corner of the court to pre- 
vent an escape from the windows, and the 
other three were in the hallway when he who 
had the party in charge commanded the in- 
mates to open the door. After they had 
waited several minutes and the command was 
not complied with, the officers burst through 
the frail barrier just as old Marco was mak- 
ing every effort to gather up the small coins 
which were spread out on the table in front 
of him. 


164 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


“ That’s Guiseppe,” Joe said, as he pointed 
to his former captor who had retreated to 
one corner of the room as if trying to con- 
ceal himself, and in a twinkling the padrone 
and his assistant were prisoners. 

There was no necessity of looking for 
Tonio. He had recognized Joe despite the 
great change in the latter’s clothing, and 
rushed from among the throng of cowering, 
terrified boys with hands outstretched, as he 
cried hysterically : 

“Do not forget me! Tell the policemen 
I am very wretched here that they may take 
me away. Can you not remember poor 
Tonio ? ” 

“ Indeed I can,” Joe replied quickly, throw- 
ing his arms around the boy’s neck to 
assure him he was safe. “ Old Marco shan’t 
stop you from going where you please.” 

It seemed as if joy affected Tonio more 
deeply than grief ; he cried, clung to his 
friend frantically, and then would have fled 
from the room if one of the officers had not 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


165 

seized him by the shoulder with a peremp- 
tory command to “stop yelling.” 

“ I want you to tell me how many of these 
boys have been kept here against their will,” 
the officer said, after Tonio had been re- 
duced to silence. “ Ask those who do not 
want to stay with Marco to step forward.” 

Tonio repeated the words in Italian, and 
immediately every boy sprang toward him, 
shouting and talking vehemently until the 
din was almost deafening. 

“ Now explain that they must go with us 
until the padrone has been brought into 
court,” the officer said to the little interpre- 
ter. “ They will be locked up for a few 
days ; but in a much better place than this, 
and afterward homes will be provided for 
all.” 

It was some time before the excited lads 
could be made to understand ; but when 
they finally realized that there was nothing 
more to be feared from old Marco every one 
was ready to do as the officer commanded. 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


1 66 


“Must Tonio go with the others?” Joe 
asked, after the order had been given for 
the boys to form in a line. 

“ Yes ; we shall commit them all to the 
House of Detention until the trial is over. 
You would be locked up, too, if the Vet. 
hadn’t promised to produce you in court 
Monday morning.” 

“ I shall see you then,” Joe whispered to 
the little Italian, “ and when the trial is 
over perhaps you and I will run the stand 
together.” 

“You are sure these men have told us no 
lies? We are really to work no more for 
Marco ? ” Tonio asked, distrustful of free- 
dom which was to be begun by imprison- 
ment. 

Joe assured him that nothing had been 
misrepresented, and then he stood in line 
with his companions, all of whom were 
watching their late masters with the most 
intense satisfaction. 

Marco and Guiseppe looked as despondent 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


167 


as the boys did happy; their hands were 
fastened together, and between two officers 
they were led out of the room, the old man 
begging to be let free, at the same time pro- 
testing that he was innocent of any wrong- 
doing. 

“ It will be seen what you have done when 
1 show the marks of the whip on my back,” 
one of the boys shouted vindictively. “ If 
the officers will look at the lash they will see 
my blood.” 

“You will have a chance to tell that in 
court,” an officer said. “ Tonio, explain to 
your companions that they are to follow me, 
and waste no more time.” 

A few words in Italian, and nine boys 
marched out of the room triumphantly, 
Tonio shouting to Joe: 

“We will not forget what you have 
done ! ” 

“ Go home now, but be at the Tombs 
court early Monday morning,” the officer in 
charge of the party said, and Joe left the 


TONIO’S RESCUE. 


1 68 

building where he had been so wretched to 
be met on the steps by his friends, who were 
waiting impatiently to receive him. 

“ That’s what I call a neat job,” Slip 
Johnson said approvingly, as he and Tom 
Brady seized Joe by the arms and led him 
up the street followed by a noisy, joyful 
crowd. “We begun to think one spell that 
the doctor was playin’ it rough, an’ had you 
locked up agin ; but we stuck right there 
till you come out with the cops.” 

“ An’ we’d a’ staid all night if you hadn’t 
showed up before,” Tom added. 

Then the remainder of the party pre- 
vented further progress by clustering around 
Joe with the demand that he tell all which 
had occurred since they saw him last, and 
when the not-very-long story was concluded, 
Slip said : 

“ Now, come on ; we’re goin’ to give a 
reg’lar swell supper, an’ if you don’t have 
the highest old time that ever was, it won’t 
be our fault.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE INVALID. 

The feast was quite as great a success as 
Slippey and his friends had anticipated. 
They went to an out-of-the-way restaurant 
near Park Row where the proprietor, in con- 
sideration of the number of would-be custo- 
mers and the fact that it was late in the 
evening, agreed to serve the regularly adver- 
tised twenty-five-cent meals at fifty per cent, 
discount, and each boy, with the exception 
of Joe, paid for his own food. Slip and 
Tom contributed the amount necessary for 
the entertainment of the only invited guest, 
and although it is quite probable there were 
more elaborate dinners eaten in the city on 
that night, it is not possible any could have 
been more highly appreciated. 

It was nearly ten o’clock when the feasters 
169 


170 


THE INVALID. 


reached the lumber-yard news-stand again, 
and Doctor, having been alone since noon, 
greeted his master and friends with such 
demonstrations of joy that Joe reproached 
himself severely for what seemed very much 
like neglect of the cripple. 

“We ought to have come right back from 
old Marcos an’ given him somethin’ to eat 
before we went off on a good time,” he said, 
and both Slip and Tom tried to atone for 
their forgetfulness by purchasing a plentiful 
supply of milk and rolls from the neighbor- 
ing grocery store. 

While the invalid was enjoying his late 
repast one by one the boys went home, until 
Slip and Joe were alone, and the former 
said, when Doctor lapped up the last drop 
of milk: 

“ Come on ; it’s time to go. Mother 
expects you’ll sleep with me, an’ she’d raise 
a row if you didn’t.” 

Joe made no objection to the plan. He 
felt so tired and weak that even the exertion 


THE INVALID. 


171 

of carrying the dog was too much for him, 
and as Slippey took the box from his feeble 
arms he began to wonder if he was really 
sick as some of his friends seemed to think. 

Mrs. Johnson’s bed was not nearly as soft 
and odorous as the one he had slept on at 
the farm-house ; but it was rest-inviting to 
the weary boy, and he did not open his eyes 
next morning until Slip awakened him after 
breakfast was on the table. 

It was unnecessary for Joe to say he did 
not feel refreshed by the slumber. His face 
told of that fact most eloquently, and Alice 
cried, running toward him as he entered the 
room looking pale and haggard : 

“ What is the matter ? Are you sick ? ” 

“ I don’t believe so, ’cause that couldn’t be 
where everybody is so good to me. It 
seems as if I was jest like Doctor — when 
I get into a real bad scrape all the folks I 
meet are friends.” 

Joe tried to appear cheerful, and to shake 
off the illness which assailed him; but 


IJ2 


THE INVALID. 


before he had finished speaking his pallor 
increased to such an extent that Mrs. John- 
son insisted on his lying down. 

“ Come right here on the lounge,” she 
said, “ and you needn’t think of anything 
but getting better, for it’s Sunday when 
there’s no work to be done.” 

“ I’ve got to go up an’ see the doctor,” 
Joe said; but at the same time he did as she 
proposed because it was actually impossible 
to remain standing. 

“ You can see him to-morrow just as well,” 
Alice added, as she arranged the pillows 
and tried in her poor way to make him 
more comfortable. 

“ But he’ll be waitin’ for me, an’ I’ve got 
to go ’cause I told him I would.” 

“Walter shall run up there and explain 
that you are too sick to go out,” Mrs. 
Johnson said, growing alarmed at the boy’s 
appearance, and before he could make any 
protest Slippey had left the room on his 
way to Third Avenue. 


THE INVALID. 


173 


Joe did his best to act as if he was not 
really ill ; but when $dice brought Doctor 
in his soap-box kennel to the lounge, he 
could do little more than hold his hand out 
for the dog to lick. 

“We’ll put both the invalids together,” 
Si’s tiny sister said, as she took the cripple 
from his bed of paper and laid him on Joe’s 
arm, and it seemed as if the dog understood 
that his master was ill, for he remained very 
quiet, not once trying to press his little 
brown nose against the boy’s cheek save 
when the latter spoke to him. 

Poor Alice ! She was thoroughly alarmed 
as her young guardian tried in vain to sip a 
few spoonfuls of the coffee Mrs. Johnson 
brought. She had heard what the latter 
thought of Joe’s condition when they were 
alone after he paid his first visit, and now 
she feared he was very near death. 

Slip’s mission to the veterinary surgeon 
resulted differently from what Mrs. Johnson 
had fancied. That gentleman, on being told 


i74 


THE INVALID. 


that Joe was too ill to call on him, said, as 
he took up his hat and cane : 

“ I’ll go back with you, my lad, and see 
what your mother thinks about it. If all 
the boys in this city were like Little Joe I’d 
be willing to give something to the orphan 
asylums, and he musn’t be allowed to suffer 
for anything while I’m around.” 

Slip looked in surprise at this red-faced 
man who said such kindly things about his 
friend, yet spoke as if he was terribly angry ; 
but he made no reply. In silence he led 
the way to his cleanly but not beautiful 
home, and his astonishment was increased 
by hearing the big man speak to the sick 
boy as kindly and softly as a woman. 

“ What’s the matter, Joe ? ” 

“ Nothin’ much. I reckon I’ll be all right 
in the mornin’, but I’m awful tired now. 
You know the officers told me to come 
down to the Tombs early to-morrow, an’ 
I’ve got to be well by then.” 

“ Don’t bother about that. I’ll see them 


THE INVALID. 


175 


some time to-day, and explain that it won’t 
be convenient for you to come.” 

“ I’m ’fraid they’ll be mad, ’cause one of 
’em told me I’d a’ been locked up with 
Tonio but for you.” 

“ Then if I say you can’t come, that’ll 
settle it,” and the surgeon brushed back the 
brown curls from Joe’s forehead with a 
touch as gentle as Alice’s could have been, 
and after one searching glance at the wan 
face he turned with his old, gruff air to Slip, 
as he asked, “ What are you loafing around 
here for when there’s so much to be done ? ” 

“ I ain’t got nothin’ to do,” and Master 
Johnson looked from the surgeon to his 
mother in the most perfect bewilderment. 
“ I don’t sell Sunday papers, an’ neither 
does Joe.” 

“ Then take this up to Lexington Avenue 
— I’ve put the address on it so you can’t 
make any mistake.” 

The visitor handed him a card on which 
were written half a dozen words, and Slip 


176 


THE INVALID. 


obeyed, looking as if he believed Joe’s friend 
was a lunatic. 

Then the surgeon called Mrs. Johnson 
aside to explain that he had sent for a physi- 
cian with whom he was acquainted, and 
after that had been done he sat down again 
by the sick boy’s side. 

An hour later Slip came into the room 
with an elderly gentleman who aroused Joe 
from the half-stupor into which he had 
fallen to ask him a number of questions. 
Then, as it appeared to Alice, he thumped 
the little fellow roughly on the back and 
chest until the invalid cried out with pain, 
and he wrote something on a small square 
of white paper which he handed to the 
surgeon. 

After that the two men and Mrs. Johnson 
held a long conversation in one corner of 
the room as if afraid Alice or Slip might 
overhear them, and when it was concluded 
the surgeon said, as he took some money 
from his pocket : 


THE INVALID. 


I 77 


“ I will supply what cash is needed if you 
will do the nursing, Mrs. Johnson. In case 
it should not be possible for me to call in 
the morning, I wish you would send your 
son to my office after Doctor Marshall has 
made his visit, so I can know how Joe is 
getting along.” 

Then both the men went away, and Slip 
and Alice stood near the lounge watching 
the invalid with a nameless fear in their 
hearts until the attention of the former was 
attracted to the street by a shrill, peculiar 
whistle. 

“ It’s Dick White,” he said in a whisper, 
as he looked out of the window, and Joe’s 
eyes were opened at once. 

“ He’s after the fifty cents I owe him. 
Don’t you s’pose he’d jest as soon come up 
here, ’cause I don’t feel like goin’ down.” 

“ Of course he will ; but what do you owe 
him for? I thought you didn’t know him 
very well.” 

Joe told of the bargain he made with Dick 


1 78 


THE INVALID. 


when his need was so great, and concluded 
by saying: 

“ It’s lucky your mother an’ the doctor 
didn’t take what I owed ’em, for I wouldn’t 
had the money now, an’ he was to have it 
the day I got clear.” 

“ You ain’t goin’ to give him half a dollar 
for jest cornin’ up here ? ” and Slippey spoke 
very earnestly. 

“ That’s what I said I’d do, an’ it wouldn’t 
be fair to back out of a trade. Please ask 
him in, an’ I’ll feel better after it’s squared.” 

Slippey looked angry when he went down 
the stairs, and the reception Dick White 
met with was not very cordial. 

“ What are you whistlin’ ’round here for?” 
he asked sternly. 

“ The fellers said Joe was in your house, 
an’ I come for what he owes me.” 

“ Are you mean enough to take pay for 
helpin’ a feller out of a scrape like he was 
in ? ” Slip asked indignantly. 

“ I knocked off work so’s to hunt for yoii 


THE INVALID. 


179 


an’ Tom, an’ he oughter do what he prom- 
ised,” Dick said, in a whining tone, and Slip 
replied scornfully : 

“Oh, he’s jest soft enough to pay, an’ I’m 
here to ask if you’ll please be so kind as to 
walk up-stairs an’ get the money, ’cause he’s 
sick an’ can’t come down. But jest wait till 
you get into a scrape, an’ then we’ll see 
whether the fellers will help you except for 
hard cash.” 

“ A trade’s a trade,” Master White replied, 
much as if he was ashamed of himself, and 
when he ascended the stairs Slippey stepped 
around the corner where he pounded the 
lamp-post as a safe way of giving vent to his 
temper. 

“ I won’t go back till he leaves. If I 
meet him agin it’s most sure I’ll thump 
him, an’ that would make Joe feel bad,” 
he said to himself, as he kept his face 
resolutely turned down the street lest he 
should see Dick. 

The fear of wounding his sick friend pre- 


i8o 


THE INVALID. 


vented him from even so much as looking 
around until his mother called to him from 
the corner, and said, as he went quickly to 
her side : 

“ I’m going to the druggist’s for Joe’s 
medicine, and you must stay with him till 
I get back, for Alice is doing the work.” 

“ I was waitin’ for Dick White to go,” 
Slip replied, as he made a great effort to 
keep his temper within bounds. 

“ He only staid a moment,” Mrs. Johnson 
said, as she continued on her way, and 
Slippey muttered : 

“ He left the minute he got his money; 
but jest wait till Joe gets well, an’ I’ll show 
him whether it pays to be mean.” 

Then he entered the house, but without 
speaking, for the invalid was lying on the 
lounge with his eyes closed as if asleep, and 
he did his best to move about noiselessly. 
He had already seated himself near the 
sick boy, when a heavy step was heard on 
the stairs, and in another instant Tom Brady 


THE INVALID. 


1 8 1 


burst into the room, so excited that he failed 
to see Slip’s warning gestures. 

“ Where’s Alice ? ” he asked in a hoarse 
whisper, and Joe opened his eyes immedi- 
ately. 

“ She’s out in the kitchen. What’s the 
matter?” And now Slippey forgot that he 
had been trying to preserve silence. 

“ Her brother is dead. The steamer he 
went on got wrecked, an’ the poor old feller 
is drownded,” Tom said, as he did his best to 
choke down a sob while he handed his friend 
a newspaper folded in such a manner that 
the headline, “ Loss of the Greyhound,” 
could be seen. “ Look ! there’s his name.” 

Slippey did not read the article. The 
one line, “ Silas Hodgdon, Captains Boy , 
DrownedC arrested his attention, and for 
several moments he gazed at it in silence as 
if unable to understand its meaning. 

“ Let me see,” Joe said, as he held out his 
hand for the paper, and when it was given 
him he read the brief account of the disaster 


182 


THE INVALID. 


slowly, stopping almost at every other word 
to wipe the tears from his eyes. 

“ Poor little Alice ! ” he cried, and then 
folding the sheet quickly that the article 
might be hidden from view, he said, “ Don’t 
tell her about this now, fellers ; wait awhile.” 

“ But she’s got to know,” and Tom ap- 
peared surprised that such a request should 
be made. 

“Wait till I’m well. If she sees that 
while I’m sick it’ll seem like she didn’t have 
anybody to take care of her. I’ll go to 
work after the trial to-morrow, an’ when 
we’ve found a place for her to live, so’s 
she’ll know things are all right, we’ll ask 
Slippey’s mother to tell her.” 

“ Of course we’re bound to do what you 
say,” Tom replied slowly, but looking very 
much as if he thought the sad news should 
be made known at once, and before he could 
ask why Joe was lying down, Slip beckoned 
for him to go into the hall. 

When Mrs. Johnson returned the two 


v 


THE INVALID. 


183 


boys were in earnest conversation on the 
stairs, and after they had shown her the 
brief account which would plunge so many 
loving hearts into deepest grief, repeating 
the request made by the sick boy, she said : 

“We will do as he wishes, and it is just as 
well, perhaps, for he is so ill that the sight 
of Alice mourning might make him worse.” 

Then she entered the room where the 
invalid lay with the tears trickling down his 
pale face, while the dog was licking the thin 
fingers as if understanding his need of sym- 
pathy, and from the kitchen could be heard 
the sweet, clear voice of the drowned boy’s 
tiny sister as she sang while working, all 
unconscious of the sorrow in store for her. 


CHAPTER XII. 


joe’s letter. 

When the physician came next morning 
there was no necessity for him to say that 
Joe was very ill. The invalid’s face told the 
story more plainly than words could have 
done, and Mrs. Johnson’s voice trembled as 
she asked in a whisper : 

“ Is he any worse, Doctor ? ” 

“ I am afraid we can do but little save to 
afford him relief from pain. A change of 
scene and air might affect more than med- 
icine ; but since that is out of the ques- 
tion nothing can be done except to give him 
whatever he wants in order to prevent him, 
so far as possible, from dwelling upon his 
own condition.” 

Then, after writing a prescription more as 
a matter of form than because the sick boy 

184 


joe’s letter. 


185 


needed drugs, he left the room, and the door 
had hardly closed behind him when Joe, 
whom Mrs. Johnson believed to be asleep, 
laid his hand on hers, as he asked : 

“ Does he mean that I won’t ever get 
well? ” 

For a moment the good woman hesitated, 
hardly knowing what reply to make, and 
then as Alice, not having heard the physi- 
cian’s ominous words, went into the adjoin- 
ing room intent on her household duties, she 
said, kissing the boy’s pale cheeks while she 
held his face in her hands : 

“ I’m afraid he does, Joe, dear. Try to be 
brave for your mother is waiting up there, 
and if the angels come to take you she will 
be with them.” 

“ It don’t seem as if I was ’fraid, only I’m 
awful sorry, ’cause I wanted to keep Alice 
from feelin’ bad, an’ I oughtet- live till Doc- 
tor gets well. Do you s’pose I could go to 
the market to-morrow ? ” 

“ No, indeed, Joe, you mustn’t think of 


1 86 joe’s letter. 

such a thing. Can’t Walter do the errand 
for you ? He will be home pretty soon, for 
he wasn’t going to buy many papers this 
morning.” 

“ If you’ll let me write somethin’ to Mrs. 
Webster he might carry it down.” 

The physician had said that the sick boy’s 
mind should be occupied lest he dwell upon 
his own condition, therefore Mrs. Johnson 
brought him a sheet of paper and a pencil ; 
but she asked solicitously : 

“ Can you write, or shall I do it for you ? ” 

u I’ll try, an’ perhaps she’d rather I did it 
all, ’cause I’m goin’ to ask her to let some- 
body come out to her farm in my place.” 

With the paper spread on a book, and an 
additional pillow placed under his head, Joe 
went to work, forced to stop every few min- 
utes as his strength failed him, and the task 
was not completed when Slip entered the 
room. 

“ I thought you’d like to know ’bout the 
trial, so me an’ Tom Brady went down to 


joe’s letter. 


187 


the court-house,” he said, as he patted Doc- 
tor, whom Alice had placed on the bed by 
Joe’s side. 

“ Is the trial over ? ” 

“ Part of it is, an’ the rest comes off next 
month. The /talian boys told ’bout Marco 
makin’ ’em play on the street, and how he 
used the whip. Then the judge said he’d 
bind the old man an’ Guiseppe over — what- 
ever that means — an’ your hoss-doctor thinks 
they’ll be sent to prison sure.” 

“ What’ll be done to Tonio an’ the rest of 
the fellers?” Joe asked, his cheeks growing 
ominously red with excitement. 

“ The S’iety for the Pre’ntion of Cruelty 
to Children promised to get homes for ’em 
all. Tom an’ me went right over to Tonio 
an’ told him you couldn’t come on ’count 
of bein’ sick. He says he’s livin’ high up 
to the House of ’Tention, an’ wants to kiss 
you ; but I don’t reckon you’d have a /talian 
slobberin’ ’round, even if he is pretty nigh 
decent.” 


joe’s letter. 


i 88 


“ You didn’t tell him that, did you, Slip- 
pey?” 

“ What d’yer take me for ? I jest said he 
couldn’t do it yet awhile, an’ he allowed as 
how he an’ all the gang would when they 
saw you ; but it’ll be easy enough to keep 
away from ’em. Tom says he’ll stand down 
by our door with a big club so’s they can’t 
get in till you say the word.” 

“ Tell him not to do that, Slippey,” and 
Joe tried in vain to raise himself on the pil- 
lows. “ It would make ’em feel bad, an’ I’d 
be sorry.” 

“ All right,” Master Johnson said care- 
lessly, “ I’ll run down an’ make him go away, 
’cause he’s there now watchin’ for /talians.” 

Then Slippey left the room, and Joe re- 
sumed his painful task of letter-writing, stop- 
ping not until the following was concluded : 

“ Deer Miss Webster im awful sorry i cant come out to see you 
agin but the doctor says i wont get well an i guess it’s so. If 
God lets me into heaven ill look round for your little boy an tell 
him how good you was to let me wear his does. Alices brother 


joe’s letter. 


189 


Si has got drownded an i thought perhaps youd let her come out 
to see you cause she aint got any home. Shes a nice little girl 
an if she brings the dog with her so theyll both have a home it 
wont make so much difference bout me. Theyll be jest as lone- 
some as i was, an youd be glad to make em feel good the way you 
did me. Doctor is a little dog an he wouldnt be much trouble 
but im fraid some of the boys here will kill him if i die. I wish 
id kissed you twice the mornin i come to New York. Good by 
Mis Webster. “ Joe ” 


Before Slippey went to bed that night the 
invalid did his best to describe the farmer 
so explicitly that there would be no difficulty 
in finding him, and Joe was yet asleep when 
his friend set out next morning. 

It was hardly ten o’clock when the rattle 
of heavy wheels was heard from the street, 
and an instant later Slippey ushered a 
stranger into Joe’s room. Their footsteps 
aroused the sick boy from the stupor into 
which he had fallen, and a look of joy lighted 
up his face as Mr. Webster entered. 

“ I’m so glad you’ve come,” he cried; “but 
I didn’t want to ask you ’cause I was ’fraid 
it wouldn’t do to leave the horses.” 


joe’s letter. 


190 


“ I’d a’ been a good deal quicker if I’d 
known this before,” the visitor said huskily. 
“ The last thing I told mother when I left 
this mornin’ was that I’d bring you back 
with me if you come down to the market. 
She has fixed up our boy’s room, an’ we 
was countin’ on keepin’ you with us a long 
while, Josey.” 

“You’re real good, an’ I’d liked to gone 
there,” Joe replied, as he laid his hand on 
the farmer’s brown fingers. “ Don’t you 
think she could ask Alice an’ Doctor to stay 
awhile ? Then it wouldn’t make any differ- 
ence whether I died or not.” 

“ They shall come, Josey, they shall come, 
an’ we’ll keep the poor little motherless girl 
jest the same as if she was our own. So 
this is the dog? ’’and Mr. Webster leaned 
over Doctor ostensibly to pat him ; but in 
reality to hide the tears in his eyes. 

“ Don’t you think he’d be nice to have on 
a farm ? ” and there was such a world of 
entreaty in the question that one could 


joe’s letter. 


191 

understand how eager Joe was to know the 
cripple would have a good home. 

“ He shall come with the little girl, an’ at 
the same time you do,” the farmer said with 
emphasis, after a pause. “ I ain’t goin’ to 
give in that you won’t get well agin till 
weve seen what can be done.” 

Joe was too tired to make any reply. He 
closed his eyes as if oblivious to everything 
around him now that the future of his pet 
and Alice had been assured, and while he 
was thus in a state of partial unconscious- 
ness Farmer Webster arose softly as he 
beckoned for Mrs. Johnson to follow him 
into the hall. Once there, and with the 
door closed to prevent any possibility of 
his words being overheard, he whispered 
hoarsely : 

“ I’m goin’ for mother. She’s a master- 
hand at doctorin’, an’ can do more in that 
line than any five men you ever saw. We’ll 
be back before night-fall, an’ you must keep 
the little fellow cheerful till then.” 


192 


joe’s letter. 


Without waiting for a reply the farmer 
did his best to go down the stairs swiftly 
and quietly, but succeeding very poorly in 
both attempts. On reaching the sidewalk 
he was confronted by a large number of 
boys who were waiting just outside the 
door, and Tom Brady asked in a low tone: 

“ Mister, will you tell us how Little Joe is 
now ? ” 

“ He’s as fit to go to Heaven as ever a 
boy was ; but if there’s any virtue in mother’s 
herbs we’ll keep him here awhile longer. I 
hope that organ-grinder will be made to 
suffer for what he’s done, an’ he will if I 
ever clap my eyes on him.” 

Then, as if relieved by this outburst, the 
farmer leaped into his lumbering wagon, 
and, driving rapidly away, left the little 
group waiting anxiously for further informa- 
tion regarding the boy whom they once ill- 
treated, but had now learned to love so well. 

“ I wonder if he’d let me say I’m sorry 
’cause I pounded him the night when the 


joe’s letter. 


193 


/talian stole him ? ” Bill Dunham, who had 
joined the mourning party an hour previous, 
asked of Tom Brady. 

“ Go up an’ see.” 

Bill waited for no further encouragement; 
but, taking off his shoes in the hall, stole 
softly up the stairs, and to Mrs. Johnson 
who was yet on the landing, he whispered : 

“ I’m the feller what got poor Little Joe 
into the trouble, an’ I’ll feel awful bad if he 
don’t hear me say I’m sorry.” 

For reply she led him into the room 
where Alice was fanning the thin, pale face, 
and at the noise of footsteps Joe opened his 
eyes. 

“ I wanted to see you, Bill,” he said, 
stretching out his little blue-veined hand, 
“ ’cause I’m sorry the boys did anything after 
Marco got hold of me.” 

Bill tried to speak, but the words refused 
to come, and he could only bury his face in 
the coverlet to hide the tears which would 
persist in ploughing tiny furrows down his 


i 9 4 


joe’s letter. 


grimy cheeks. Then Joe sank into an un- 
easy slumber again, and Mrs. Johnson led 
the repentant boy from the room, whisper- 
ing when they were at the stairway: 

“You shall come and see him some other 
time, Bill ; but it isn’t wise to let him have 
too much company just now.” 

“ I’ll wait on the sidewalk, ma’am, an’ if 
you’ll let me come back when he wakes up 
p’rhaps I can tell him what I couldn’t say 
this time ’cause of the big lump in my 
throat.” 

“ If he feels any better Walter shall call 
you,” Mrs. Johnson replied kindly, and after 
looking at her searchingly for a moment as 
if fearing some effort to deceive him might 
be made, Bill ran down the stairs where his 
acquaintances were anxiously awaiting his 
return. 

The report which he gave of Joe’s condi- 
tion was not encouraging to those who were 
hoping for good news, and a look of despair 
was apparent on the faces of all until Slippey 


joe’s letter. 


195 


said, with an evident attempt at cheerfulness: 

“ We’ll stay here till the farmer brings his 
mother, an’ then it’ll be all right, ’cause he 
said she could cure him.” 

This caused hope to spring up once more 
in the breast of every member of the mourn- 
ing party, and during the remainder of that 
long vigil they suffered from impatience 
because of the non-return of Mr. Webster, 
rather than hopeless grief. 

Twice during the day Slippey was sum- 
moned by his mother to assist her in some 
household duty, and once he went up-stairs 
to carry a choice collection of food which 
had been purchased by the boys for Doctor. 
As a matter of course he was overwhelmed 
with questions relative to the invalid’s con- 
dition each time he rejoined his compan- 
ions ; but the report was always the same — 
Joe remained in a stupor from which Mrs. 
Johnson made no effort to arouse him. 

It was not until nearly night-fall that the 
farmer and his wife arrived, and Tom Brady 


196 


joe’s letter. 


at once proposed to greet them with “three 
cheers an’ a yell; ” but, fortunately, Slippey 
had his wits about him sufficiently to pre- 
vent the outburst, otherwise the sick boy 
might have been disturbed. 

Mr. and Mrs. Webster paid no attention 
to the anxious group on the sidewalk, but 
went directly up-stairs, and when half an 
hour had elapsed Tom Brady and Bill Dun- 
ham insisted that Slippey should endeavor 
to learn what was being done. 

He was only too willing to comply with 
their wishes, and in five minutes, after steal- 
ing softly through the hallway, returned 
looking decidedly happy. 

“ I didn’t see Joe,” he said, as his compan- 
ions gathered around him, “’cause the far- 
mer’s mother an’ mine are with him; but 
Alice thinks he’ll be cured right up. Now, 
s’posen you all go home, an’ I’ll be down- 
town mighty early in the mornin’ to let you 
know how he feels.” 

The boys were hungry as well as tired, 


joe’s letter. 


197 


and they followed this very good advice 
after making Slippey solemnly cross his 
throat in token that the promise would be 
kept to the letter. 

The young merchants had neglected busi- 
ness one entire day owing to the anxiety 
caused by Joe’s illness, and many of them 
were seriously embarrassed, in a pecuniary 
way, by even this brief time of idleness. 
The necessity of earning money immedi- 
ately, prevented them from lingering in 
bed next morning very long after daylight, 
and the majority of the party had been at 
work nearly an hour when Slippey appeared, 
fairly radiant with delight. 

“Joe’s better,” he shouted, as he saw 
Tom Brady quite half a block away, and 
while running toward him Master Johnson 
continued the story at the full strength of 
his lungs, as if it was essential all the par- 
ticulars should be told in the least possible 
space of time. “ The farmer went home 
last night, but his mother staid ; an’ when 


ic;8 


joe’s letter. 


the hoss-doctor come up in the evenin’ he 
said she was doin’ Joe more good than the 
whole crowd at the hospital could. I saw 
him this mornin’, an’ he says I’m to give his 
love to all hands.” 

“Did he tell you he was better?” Tom 
Brady asked, as if doubting whether this 
good news could be really true. 

“ He said he wasn’t so tired, an’ that'Mrs. 
Webster had been fixin’ Doctor up too, so’s 
both of ’em can get out ’bout the same 
time.” 

If there was any question in the minds of 
Joe’s friends regarding the truth of this 
cheering news, the events of the next six 
days dispelled all doubts. For three suc- 
cessive mornings Slippey reported the inva- 
lid as having improved, and on the fourth 
he announced the pleasing fact that the sick 
boy was so far advanced toward recovery 
as to be able to sit up in bed nearly an hour. 

“ The farmer’s mother has gone home,” he 
said in conclusion to this last piece of news ; 


joe’s letter. 


199 


“ but she’s cornin’ back in two or three days 
to take Joe an’ Alice an’ Doctor away.” 

“ Does Alice know yet ’bout Si’s gettin’ 
drownded ? ” Tom asked. 

“ Mother told her yesterday. She don’t 
say much, but looks all kinder broke up, an’ 
I guess goin’ out to the farm will d(5 her as 
much good as it will Joe an’ Doctor.” 

Mrs. Johnson had persistently and, as 
many of the boys thought, cruelly refused to 
allow any of Joe’s friends to call on him, 
giving as a reason that visitors would cause 
more or less excitement which might prove 
injurious. But when the day arrived on 
which he was to be carried to the farm by 
the veterinary surgeon, Slippey extended a 
general invitation “ for all hands to come up 
in front of the house an’ give him a swell 
send-off.” 

There was no delay in accepting such an 
invitation, and fully an hour before the time 
set for the departure a party of not less than 
twenty boys were gathered on the sidewalk, 


200 


joe’s letter. 


ready to give vent to the most extravagant 
demonstrations of joy immediately upon the 
appearance of their friend. 

The surgeon arrived three quarters of an 
hour later with a two-seated carriage drawn 
by a pair of horses, and his reception by the 
young Merchants was very warm, if noise 
can be considered a test. 

“ What’s the matter now ? ” he asked 
gruffly as, stepping from the carriage, he 
looked around upon the shouting crowd. 
“ Can’t you hold your tongues five minutes 
at a time ? ” 

“ There’re only tryin’ to let you know as 
how all hands ’predate your bein’ good to 
Joe,” Slippey said, in a half-apologetic tone, 
and the surgeon, looking so red in the face 
that there appeared to be great danger he 
might explode, cried, with a decided show of 
anger : 

“ See to the horses, and don’t be makin’ 
the people believe you’ve gone crazy.” 

In an instant a perfect barricade of boys 


joe’s letter. 


201 


had gathered in front of the animals, and 
the surgeon coughed suspiciously loud and 
long as if trying to smother a smile which 
might have prevented him from looking 
fierce as he entered the house. 

Ten minutes later Slippey was summoned 
by his mother, and when he re-appeared 
on the sidewalk with a quantity of wraps 
and pillows the expectant throng, knowing 
Joe’s journey was about to begin, gave vent 
to a howl expressive of pleasure at his 
recovery. 

While the uproar was at its height the 
veterinary surgeon emerged from the house 
with the invalid in his arms, and so pale and 
feeble did Little Joe look that the noise was 
hushed immediately. Instead of crowding 
around with congratulations, as had been 
their purpose, every boy moved back at a 
respectful distance while Alice and Mrs. 
Johnson, the former dressed in black and 
with deep marks of grief on her face, piled 
the pillows on the rear seat until they formed 


202 


joe’s LETTER. 


a very comfortable couch. Then, when the 
tiny girl had perched herself by his side, and 
Doctor in his soap-box bed was placed on 
the floor of the carriage, Joe held out his 
hand to the boy nearest him, who chanced 
to be Bill Dunham. 

“When I get well I’ll come back to see 
you all,” he said. “ Don’t feel bad ’bout 
what happened the night when old Marco got 
hold of me, an’ please don’t pick on fellers 
what have to sell papers for a livin’ jest 
’cause they come ’round where you are.” 

“ I won’t ever so much as yip agin, no 
matter how many go inter the business,” 
Bill replied earnestly, and before he could 
say anything more the remainder of the 
party had swarmed around the carriage, 
eager to participate in the leave-taking. 

“ Slip an’ me will run out some day to see 
yer,” Tom Brady said, “ an’ every mornin’ 
that the farmer comes to town we’ll send 
some papers so’s you won’t feel lonesome. 
Now, if things don’t suit you to a hair, jest 


JOES LETTER. 


203 


let us know, an’ we’ll bring you back if it 
takes every cent the fellers can raise.” 

“Now you’re talkin’, Bill! ’’half a dozen 
of the boys shouted in chorus, and Joe, too 
weak to speak so that all might hear him, 
was forced to make his reply to Slippey, 
who was almost standing on his head as he 
leaned over the back of the front seat in the 
effort to kiss the crippled dog on the nose. 

“ Tell ’em I’ll get along all right, ’cause 
nobody could ever be any nicer than Mrs. 
Webster, an’ you’ll see both Doctor an’ me 
agin before long.” 

“Jest ’tend to gettin’ well,” Slippey re- 
plied as, having succeeded in kissing the dog, 
he scrambled down from the carriage. “ I'll 
keep the shop in the lumber-yard goin’ so’s 
it’ll be ready to step right into when you 
come back. If you or Alice want anythin’, 
tell the farmer, an’ us fellers will send it 
out.” 

During all this time the surgeon had 
waited quietly for the adieux to be said ; 


204 


joe’s letter. 


but now it appeared as if his patience was 
exhausted. 

“ Unless you give me a chance to start 
the horses without running over six or eight 
boys, we shall never get to the farm. Joe’s 
too weak to stand any more of your non- 
sense just now, so leave him alone ! ” he 
shouted gruffly, as he flourished the whip, 
and the throng barely had time to fall back 
before the spirited animals were off at full 
speed. 

It was not until the vehicle had disap- 
peared around the corner that the boys 
remembered the agreement to give the in- 
valid three cheers at the moment of his 
departure, and when it was possible to carry 
into effect this portion of the programme, 
the travellers were too far away to hear 
them. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


AT THE FARM. 

To tell the story of Joe’s convalescence 
in detail would not only occupy too much 
space, but it might prove uninteresting read- 
ing, for during three weeks following his 
removal from the city one day was passed 
very much like another. He was forced to 
remain in bed, and either Mrs. Webster or 
Alice was by his side almost constantly. 

In one sense the anxiety and labor of 
nursing the invalid was a positive benefit to 
Alice, since it prevented her from dwelling 
upon the loss of her brother as she would 
otherwise have done. She mourned very 
deeply, as a matter of course; but the em- 
ployment did not allow grief to engross all 
her thoughts, which was probably fortunate 
so far as her health was concerned. 


205 


206 


AT THE FARM. 


The veterinary surgeon rode out to the 
farm twice each week for nearly a month, 
and he told Mrs. Webster in his old gruff 
tone, on the day when Joe was able to dress 
himself and walk a short distance in the 
open air, that the boy’s life was saved by 
her skilful nursing. 

“ A week more in town would have killed 
him,” he said as, with the farmer and his 
wife, he watched the invalid take his first 
walk under the guidance and direction of 
his tiny nurse, while the crippled dog, now 
almost recovered, limped slowly behind. 
“ Not that doctors don’t know what to do, 
but because, as Marshall said, he needed an 
entire change of scene and air. Now he is 
nearly well again, what are you going to do 
with him ? It seems too bad to let him run 
wild on the streets as he did before the 
Italians stole him.” 

“ Joe will never have to do that while 
mother an’ me have a roof over our heads,” 
the farmer said with emphasis. “We shall 


AT THE FARM. 


207 


give him the place our boy would have 
occupied if God had not taken him, and the 
little girl is to stay with us also. It won’t 
require much more bread to fill four mouths 
than two, an’ I reckon the sunshine they 
bring into the old house will more’n make 
things square.” 

“Now, that’s what I call being charitable,” 
the surgeon said approvingly. “ I never 
had any very great love for boys, because it 
seems as if their cnly aim in life is to annoy 
other people; but Joe jest fills the bill, 
’cordin’ to my way of thinkin’, an’ if the 
time ever comes when he or you need any 
help, give me a call.” 

Then the surgeon drove away behind that 
“particularly neat bit of horse-flesh,” and 
the farmer returned to his work in the field, 
while Mrs. Webster set about preparing a 
dainty lunch to tempt the invalid’s rapidly 
increasing appetite. 

Joe was by no means ignorant of what his 
friends in the city had been doing during 


208 


AT THE FARM. 


his absence, and they were equally well- 
informed as to his continued improvement. 
Never once had Mr. Webster driven to mar- 
ket without being met by one or all of them, 
and on every occasion something was sent 
to the sick boy. Bill Dunham was particu- 
larly careful to be on hand with a token of 
remembrance ; but since his offerings usually 
consisted of “nigger eyeballs,” “Jim Crows,” 
or some other equally sticky delicacy, Alice 
had more enjoyment from the gifts than did 
her little guardian. As for newspapers ! 
Why, the Webster home was overflowing 
with such reading matter which the boys 
would insist on his taking, until the farmer 
declared that it was really becoming very 
much like work to look over them all. 

“ It’ll make Joe more contented like if he 
sees plenty papers around,” Slippey kaid 
once when the farmer made objections to 
carrying away so many* and the latter re- 
plied, with a hearty laugh : 

“ Contented ? Why, a cat with butter on 


AT THE FARM. 


209 


her paws couldn’t be more contented than 
he is, an’ when he gets so he can toddle 
’round the farm I reckon it would take a 
pretty likely yoke of steers to pull him away. 
Jest wait till the harvestin’ is done, an’ then 
I’m cornin’ in with the big wagon an’ haul 
every one of you out home to stay from 
Saturday till Monday. Our house ain’t 
very big ; but I reckon you won’t grum- 
ble at sleepin’ on a mow of sweet, clean 
hay ? ” 

“ You bet we won’t,” Tom Brady said 
emphatically, and from that time forth the 
farmer’s bundle of papers increased wonder- 
fully in size. 

Before the harvesting was finished Joe 
looked stronger and in better health than 
on the night when he was kidnapped by old 
Marco. Both he and Alice spent so much 
time out-of-doors that the sun had painted 
their faces brown, and the assistance which 
they were able to give in the way of husking 
corn and other light work was by no means 


210 


AT THE FARM. 


slight. Both were eager to show their grat- 
itude, and it was possible to save the farmer 
and his wife very many steps. 

Even Doctor, who could now readily use 
every one of his four legs, seemed to under- 
stand that he owed much to these good peo- 
ple, and never did a dog behave in a more 
exemplary fashion. He carefully refrained 
from frightening the chickens, no matter 
how much the speckled rooster bullied him, 
and buried all his prizes of bones where no 
damage would be done by his scratching. 

The children were very happy, as may be 
supposed, in finding such a home as this 
after their previous sad experience, and, 
until the harvesting was finished it seemed 
to them that Mr. and Mrs. Webster were 
pleased with their charitable work. After 
that time, however, and when the big barn 
was literally overflowing with sweet-scented 
hay, golden grain, yellow pumpkins and 
rosy-cheeked apples, there was a certain 
change in the farmer and his wife, the mean- 



JOE AND ALICE HUSKING, 





AT THE FARM. 


21 I 


in g of which neither Joe nor Alice could 
explain satisfactorily. 

Previously they had spoken of farm mat- 
ters, the state of the market, or household 
duties without restraint, allowing the chil- 
dren to hear all that was said. Now they 
had a secret ; when Mr. Webster came back 
from town there was always something which 
he found it necessary to tell his wife pri- 
vately. Several times Joe came in when 
they were talking very earnestly, and the 
conversation had been dropped abruptly. 
Mrs. Webster did a great deal of work, the 
results of which she was careful to keep 
hidden from Joe and Alice, and altogether 
there was an air of mystery brooding over 
the farm such as caused those who realized 
their many obligations, to feel decidedly 
uncomfortable. 

“ I’m ’fraid they think we’re too much 
trouble, an’ don’t want us to stay here any 
longer,” Joe said one afternoon when Mr. 
Webster had advised him to go with Alice 


212 


AT THE FARM. 


and Doctor down to the stream for “ a good 
time.” 

“ That can’t be true,” the tiny girl replied 
earnestly; but there was a look of mingled 
trouble and perplexity on her face. “ They 
are both just as kind as anybody ever could 
be, an’ I’m sure they want us to play oftener 
than work.” 

“ Didn’t it seem to you like as if Mr. 
Webster tried to get us out the way when 
he said we should come down here ? I’ve 
always helped him load the wagon for mar- 
ket; but this time he went to the barn 
alone, an’ told me not to feed the cows 
to-night.” 

“ Perhaps he thinks you ain’t strong 
enough yet to do much work,” Alice sug- 
gested, and then Doctor interrupted the con- 
versation, by coaxing her, with his eyes and 
tail, to throw a stick into the water for him 
to swim after, a request which she granted 
at once, entering into the sport with such 
zest that for the time being the sudden 


AT THE FARM. 


213 


change in Mr. and Mrs. Webster’s manner 
was forgotten. 

When the children returned to the house 
late in the afternoon all the chores had been 
done, and what seemed very strange, the 
barn doors were locked. In the yard was 
the lumbering wagon which the farmer gen- 
erally used when going to market ; but it 
was empty, and Joe asked, as Mr. Webster 
came out of the shed: 

“ Have you been waiting for me to help 
you load ? ” 

“ No, Josey, I shan’t carry much truck 
into town till the prices get a leetle higher. 
One of the light teams will do for to-morrow, 
I reckon. The work is all done, so you’d 
better scurry into the house an’ see if 
mother hasn’t got a cake for you and 
Alice.” 

Joe did as he was bidden, and although 
the farmer had spoken in the most kindly 
tone, he again felt decidedly anxious lest in 
some way those who had cared for him so 


214 


AT THE FARM. 


tenderly were dissatisfied because of having 
been so generous. 

In the kitchen Mrs. Webster was cooking 
what appeared to be an enormous amount 
of food. The shelves of the pantry were 
literally loaded with cakes, pies and bread 
until it seemed as if twenty of the hungriest 
boys to be found in the city could gorge 
themselves for a week without exhausting 
the supply. Yet, despite this profusion, the 
farmer’s wife was whipping eggs into a 
froth, frying crullers, mixing all sorts of 
good things together, and roasting fowls, at 
the same time wearing a good-natured but 
mysterious smile, or breaking into a hearty 
laugh as she exchanged odd glances with 
her husband. 

She had baked a cake for Joe and Alice; 
but neither enjoyed it as much as they 
would have done under other circumstances. 

Not until a late hour in the evening did 
Mrs. Webster bring her labors in the kitchen 
to a close, and then, as the children were 


AT THE FARM. 


2I 5 


going to bed, the farmer called in a voice 
which trembled as if from suppressed mirth: 

“ If I see them friends of yours, Josey, 
shall I tell ’em you sent any word ? ” 

“ Say I’d like to see every one, an’ some 
day, when you’ll let me, I’m cornin’ into 
town.” 

“ Do you really hanker after seein’ ’em ? ” 
Mr. Webster asked, and Joe from the stairs 
could hear a queer, gurgling sound as if the 
farmer was trying to prevent himself from 
laughing outright. 

“ Of course I’d like to hear ’em tell how 
business is,” Joe said hesitatingly, as if 
afraid the farmer might think he was discon- 
tented ; “ but it’s jest as well if I don’t see 
them, ’cause I get word every time you go 
into town.” 

“ Perhaps you’ll have a chance to talk 
with ’em before Christmas,” Mr. Webster 
replied, and as Joe continued on his way to 
bed he could hear the farmer and his wife 
laughing heartily. 


216 


AT THE FARM. 


“ It don’t seem as if they felt mad,” he 
said to himself when he was stowed snugly 
away in the lavender-scented sheets ; “ but 
there’s something about it that I can’t make 
out.” 

Sleep was pressing too heavily on his eye- 
lids to admit of his speculating very long on 
the mystery, and when he went down-stairs 
next morning the general condition of affairs 
appeared much as usual. Mr. Webster had 
gone into town, leaving to him such trifling 
work about the barn as could be performed 
without any very severe exertion ; but even 
before this was done Mrs. Webster sum- 
moned him to breakfast. 

“ I want to have the table cleared away 
early this morning,” the good lady said, as 
he entered the house, “ and both you and 
Alice are to dress up a little, for we may 
have company before noon.” 

“ Then that’s the reason why Mr. Webster 
took the big, three-seated wagon and the 
best harnesses,” Joe added. 


AT THE FARM. 


217 


“ So you noticed that they were missing? ” 

“ Yes ma’am, ’cause you see they’ve never 
been taken out of the barn before since I 
came here.” 

“ He thought he might meet some friends, 
I suppose,” Mrs. Webster replied, as what 
Joe thought was a queer expression came 
into her eyes. “You and Alice are to look 
your very best in case any one does make us 
a visit, and when both are fixed up you can 
sit in the kitchen with me.” 

It was just such a morning as Joe would 
have preferred to be out-of-doors. The sun 
was shining brightly, and the air sufficiently 
cool to be invigorating ; yet the children 
followed Mrs. Webster’s suggestion after 
making all possible preparations for receiv- 
ing company. During fully an hour they 
remained in the kitchen despite Doctor’s 
efforts to entice them into the yard, and 
then the rumble of heavy wheels on the 
lane which led from the highway told that 
the farmer had returned. Joe started toward 


2l8 


AT THE FARM. 


the door to assist in caring for the horses, 
as had been the custom since his recovery ; 
but before he could walk across the kitchen 
a familiar sound was heard. Had he been 
in New York there would have been no 
question in his mind but that Slippey was 
somewhere near, for the exclamations of joy 
were similar to those used by him, and in- 
voluntarily Joe halted to look through the 
window which opened on to the stable-yard. 

One glance was sufficient to explain the 
singular behavior of Mr. and Mrs. Webster 
during the past few days, for there was the 
big wagon literally overflowing with boys, 
and each of them, even down to Bill Dun- 
ham, Joe believed was a particular friend of 
his. On the front seat, looking quite as 
excited and happy as any of the noisy 
crowd, was the farmer, and when the horses 
halted one could almost fancy he was trying 
very hard not to join in the cheers which 
his guests appeared to think necessary on 
such an occasion. 


AT THE FARM. 


2 19 

Joe was so excited that it is extremely 
doubtful if he knew what he did during the 
next ten minutes, and Alice appeared but a 
trifle more composed. It is certain, how- 
ever, that he gave vent to a yell such as 
would have lowered him very decidedly in 
the estimation of the veterinary surgeon, 
and then rushed into the yard at a pace 
which he had never equalled since the day 
he ran away from Guiseppe. 

The instant he appeared from around the 
corner of the house every boy leaped out of 
the wagon, and then ensued such greetings 
as caused Mr. Webster to laugh until the 
tears rolled down his cheeks. First, each 
member of the party tried to grasp Joe’s 
hand at the same moment, and, failing in 
that, all began to talk loudly, making a din 
which caused the speckled rooster to flee in 
alarm to a safe retreat under the shed, while 
the geese waddled off toward the stream 
with all possible speed. Unable to make 
themselves understood, the excited throng 


220 


AT THE FARM. 


danced around their friend in the most gro- 
tesque fashion, and the uproar might have 
continued indefinitely had Alice not made 
her appearance in the yard. The majority 
of the visitors rushed forward to greet her, 
and Joe was left comparatively alone with 
Tom Brady. 

“We reckoned as how we’d give you a 
s’prise, ’cause the farmer said he hadn’t told 
you ’bout our cornin’,” Master Brady began, 
speaking very rapidly as if afraid of being 
interrupted before he was ready to conclude 
his remarks. “Talk about your bein’ sick, 
old man, why you’re lookin’ fine as silk, an’ 
Si’s sister don’t act like a girl what’s havin’ 
a very hard time.” 

“ That’s ’cause we have it so nice here, 
Tom. You can’t think how good Mr. an’ 
Mrs. Webster are to us. Why, they won’t 
let me work half as much as I’d like to, an’ 
pretty soon we’re both gqiu’ to school. I 
tell you it’s great to have a home.” 

You bet it is, an’ that farmer’s a reg’lar 


AT THE FARM. 


221 


brick ! Do you know he’s goin’ to keep the 
whole crowd of us here till Monday mornin’. 
He said it was to kinder cheer you up, 
’cause his wife thought you was gettin’ lone- 
some ; but it’s us fellers what’ll get the 
most cheerin’, I reckon. Say, how’s the 
dog?” 

“ He’s jest as well an’ happy as I be. See ! 
Slippey has got him in his arms. He limps 
a little bit ; but his leg is ’bout the same as 
mended.” 

After speaking with Alice, Slippey had 
caught Doctor, and was coming toward the 
two boys on a swift run as if his excitement 
would not permit of his walking in the ordi- 
nary way. 

It was not until he had asked for and 
received full particulars concerning Joe’s 
life on the farm that he would impart any 
information as to affairs in the city. When 
his curiosity was satisfied, however, he began 
to unfold his budget of news by saying : 

“ Tom an’ me went to see Tonio yester- 


222 


AT THE FARM. 


day. He’s workin’ in a fruit store down 
near Fulton ferry, an’ slingin’ more style 
than a wax image. He wanted to come out 
here, ’cause the farmer told us to ask him ; 
but he couldn’t get away on ’count of Satur- 
day bein’ a busy day. He can’t talk ’bout 
anything but you, an’ he’s jest as chipper as 
a sparrer.” 

“ Where is Marco?” Joe asked, unable to 
repress a slight tremor as he thought of 
what he had suffered while in the old 
padrone’s power. 

“He got sent to prison for two years, an’ 
so did Guiseppe. The S’iety found jobs 
for all the boys, an’ I reckon they think it 
was a mighty lucky day for ’em when you 
was stole. Tom an’ me have been runnin’ 
your old stand ; but we’re goin’ to start a 
reg’lar place before long. The hoss-doctor 
says he’ll fix up a little store what he 
owns on Third Avenue, an’ let it to us 
cheap.” 

This news was particularly pleasing to 


AT THE FARM. 


223 


Joe, and he at once began to discuss the 
question of what the stock should consist, 
for the future proprietors of the establish- 
ment had already decided to keep on sale 
certain other goods in addition to news- 
papers. 

Before any satisfactory conclusion was 
arrived at the remainder of the visiting 
party gathered around, and the conversa- 
tion soon became general. 

“ I calculate you boys have staid out here 
in the yard long enough,” the farmer said, 
after the horses had been unharnessed and 
fed. “ You must see mother before the fun 
begins in downright good earnest, an’ if I 
ain’t way off on my reckonin’ she’s got 
something that you won’t turn your backs 
on.” 

Alice and Joe led the way into the house, 
the latter calling each visitor by name as he 
entered, for Mrs. Webster’s especial informa- 
tion, and the new-comers stood in a line 
around the kitchen looking decidedly ill at 


224 


AT THE FARM. 


ease, the ceremony of an introduction calm- 
ing them down in a wonderful degree. 

It was not long, however, that they were 
allowed to remain under so much restraint. 
At the first sound betokening the visitors’ 
arrival Mrs. Webster began to bring from 
the pantry a quantity of eatables, and when 
the table was heaped high with such food as 
would most likely tempt the appetite of 
boys, the farmer said in a tone which showed 
that he was enjoying this visit quite as much 
as his guests : 

“ Now, fall to, boys, an* fill yourselves up. 
This is only a lunch to keep you from bein’ 
too hungry when dinner-time comes, so 
pitch in an’ see who can eat the most.” 

There was no necessity for a second invi- 
tation. Never before had they seen such a 
profusion of good things, and when Tom 
Brady set the example by taking a large 
piece of cake and a generous slice of cheese, 
the assault was begun without delay. 

During the next ten minutes every boy 


AT THE FARM. 


225 


ate as if it was doubtful whether he would 
have another opportunity that day, and 
when the table was nearly cleared of food 
all felt reasonably well-acquainted with Mrs. 
Webster. 

“ Now, Josey,” the farmer said, when the 
last boy at the table, who chanced to be 
Slippey, swallowed the remaining morsels 
of a large piece of pie with a little squeak 
of satisfaction and content, “ lead the whole 
crowd out an* let ’em go where they please, 
providin’ they don’t chase the cows or the 
chickens. Give ’em a good time if it costs 
all the crops, for mother an’ me have made 
up our minds that they shall have one 
square taste of what life in the country is 
like. Alice, you’d better go along, too; I’ve 
calculated it so I’ve got nothin’ to do but 
help feed the visitors, and there’ll be no 
work for you here.” 

The boy nearest the door ran out with a 
wild whoop of exultation or satisfaction 
which set Doctor into a most severe fit 


226 


AT THE FARM. 


of barking, and the speckled rooster darted 
under the shed again as the entire party 
rushed toward the brook, raising a volume 
of noise such as would have done credit to 
a band of Comanche Indians. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE VISITORS. 

When Farmer Webster invited Joe’s 
friends to the farm he distinctly stated that 
each one could enjoy himself as he chose. 
The visitors were free to do whatever they 
pleased, and although there were no orders 
against the wanton destruction of property, 
all felt in a certain degree responsible for 
any damage which might be done. 

Therefore when the first wild rush from 
the house was ended at the bank of the 
stream, Tom Brady said: 

“ Now, Joe, you tell us where we can go 
without hurtin’ things. We wanter see the 
whole place of course ; but it won’t do to 
make the farmer sorry ’cause we come.” 

“ He said not to chase the cows or the 
chickens — I reckon he meant the geese 


228 


THE VISITORS. 


an’ turkeys as well — an’ if you don’t do 
anything like that there’s no chance for 
mischief.” 

“ Then let’s go where they’re makin’ hay,” 
Slippey cried eagerly. “ I’ve heard fellers 
tell ’bout havin’ lots of' fun mowin’, an’ 
rakin’, an’ workin’ them kind of rackets.” 

Two or three of the boys who had been 
in the country before laughed at the idea of 
haying in November, and it required some 
time for Joe to explain satisfactorily that 
there could be no such “ rackets ” until the 
following summer. Then Slippey, looking 
a little ashamed at having made a mistake, 
said as if there could be no error in his 
second proposition : 

“ We’ll go an’ see ’em plant stuff. I never 
was on a farm before, an’ I want to find out 
how things are done.” 

Another burst of laughter from the more 
knowing ones caused Master Johnson’s face 
to grow very red, and when Joe made another 
explanation, this time relative to the seasons 


THE VISITORS. 


229 


for sowing and reaping, he cried in despera- 
tion : 

“What can we see then? Ain’t there 
anything more’n jest this ground same’s you 
can find anywhere ? I wanted to know how 
the stuff growed.” 

“ The pumpkins ,are still in the field,” Joe 
replied in a half-apologetic tone, as if he 
thought he was in some way responsible for 
his friend’s disappointment. “ Mr. Webster 
was goin’ to put them in the barn to-day; 
but I guess he won’t now that you are all 
out here.” 

“Say, boys, let’s us do it for him!” Tom 
Brady cried excitedly. “ I’ve allers wanted 
to work on a farm, an’ now’s the chance.” 

Almost anything in the line of novelty, 
even though it was labor, pleased the boys, 
and Joe was directed to lead the way to the 
pumpkin field. 

“We’ll do somethin’ towards payin’ for 
our grub,” Bill Dunham said gleefully, as the 
party started at full speed for the five-acre 


THE VISITORS. 


23O 

tract, thickly dotted with yellow pumpkins 
which had been left to ripen when the corn 
was gathered. 

“ Cricky ! but there’s a stack of ’em ! ” 
Slippey said, as the leaders halted at the 
edge of the field. “Now this begins to look 
somethin’ like a farm.” 

“ Where have the things got to be car- 
ried ? ” one of the boys asked. 

“ Up to the barn,” Joe replied slowly, for 
he was beginning to wonder if allowing 
guests to work was true hospitality. “ I 
heard Mr. Webster say he was goin’ to 
leave ’em there till he could haul the best 
of the lot into the city.” 

“Then come on, fellers!” Tom shouted. 
“We’ll scrape the whole crop up in a big 
pile right here, an’ then stand in a line so’s 
to throw ’em from one to the other straight 
into the barn, same’s men on the piers pass 
bricks.” 

With the exception of Joe, who felt that 
it was his duty to insure the visitors a jolly 


THE VISITORS. 


23I 


time and was a little doubtful as to whether 
pumpkin gathering would come under that 
head, no one fancied the scheme involved 
anything like labor, and in the shortest pos- 
sible space of time the task was begun, Alice 
seating herself where she would have a full 
view of all that took place. 

Twenty boys can do a large amount of 
work in a short time, more especially when 
the labor presents itself under the guise of 
sport, and the pumpkins, with a little assis- 
tance from the visitors, began to pile them- 
selves up until they looked like a veritable 
mountain. A five-acre field occupies con- 
siderable space, however, and when this 
particular material for pies will insist on 
growing in the greatest profusion, the task 
of harvesting it is not slight. 

More than one of the boys grew red in 
the face owing to rapid and repeated trips 
across the field, and many were the legs that 
felt weary before the work was finished, but 
not a single laborer faltered. The game 


232 


THE VISITORS. 


must be played to a completion, and every 
fellow’s pride was too great to admit of his 
saying that he had had enough. 

The only remark which could by any pos- 
sibility be construed as a complaint was 
made by Slippey, and even that was the 
simple statement of a fact rather than an 
outburst of weariness. 

He had come from the further edge of 
the field, staggering under the weight of 
two enormous pumpkins when an evil-dis- 
posed corn-stalk insinuated itself between 
his feet and caused him to fall headlong. 
Rising slowly and looking cross-eyed in the 
attempt to see the end of his nose from 
which some of the skin had been scratched 
by a rough stone, he said to Alice, with a 
long-drawn sigh : 

“ I tell you what it is, farmers have to 
work pretty hard sometimes, don’t they ? ” 

“ Are you tired ? ” Alice asked, as she 
brushed the dirt from the weary-looking 
boy’s clothes. 


THE VISITORS. 


2 33 


“ If I was I wouldn’t let on to the other 
fellers,” Slippey replied in a whisper, and 
then gathering up the pumpkins once more 
he continued on to the place of deposit. 

During nearly three hours the boys worked 
industriously, and then, when the task was 
nearly done, Mr. Webster appeared on the 
scene. He had fancied his guests would 
swarm over every portion of the farm within 
five minutes after they were let loose from the 
house, and their continued absence caused 
him so much uneasiness that he thought it 
necessary to learn the cause of their sudden 
and complete disappearance. 

“What’s the meanin’ of all this?” he 
asked, as he stood beside the huge pile of 
pumpkins, gazing at Alice in the most per- 
fect surprise. 

“ The boys thought they would do some- 
thing to pay for the good time you are giv- 
ing them. You’re not angry, are you? ” she 
added timidly. 

“ Well, no, I can’t say as I am, seein’s how 


234 


THE VISITORS. 


this saves me a good bit of work; but I 
brought ’em out here to enjoy themselves.” 

“ I think that’s what they are doing, only 
some of them have grown pretty tired.” 

At this moment the pumpkin-gatherers 
approached the farmer with the remainder 
of the crop, and Tom Brady asked proudly: 

“ Didn’t think we knew so much about 
farmin’, did you, Mr. Webster? Now, it 
won’t take any time to throw ’em into the 
barn, an’ you jest watch us two or three 
minutes.” 

Mr. Webster appeared to be on the point 
of making some protest against his guests 
doing the work ; but he checked himself 
and stood by Alice’s side as the boys formed 
a line which led to the very door of the 
barn. Then Tom, who was stationed at the 
pumpkin heap, threw the first one, and as it 
passed to each fellow in turn another and 
another was started until there seemed to 
be a perfect stream of huge yellow balls in 
the air. 


THE VISITORS. 


2 35 


This portion of the task was finished in 
short order, and when the last one was suc- 
cessfully housed the farmer cried : 

“ Now, how many of you own a pocket- 
knife ? ” 

In an instant every boy was holding one 
high in the air, and without stopping to 
inquire what proportion of the stock was 
serviceable, Mr. Webster continued: 

“ Come with me, an’ I’ll show you how to 
make a jack-a-lantern. That’s a part of the 
farm work which country boys never forget 
when the pumpkins are harvested. I reckon 
mother’s got candles enough for all hands, 
an’ you can have a fine time after dark.” 

This invitation was accepted with the 
greatest alacrity, and soon the farmer was 
explaining just how thick the shell of the 
lantern should be, and what strokes were 
necessary to form a hideously artistic-look- 
ing face. 

The last lantern had been made when 
Mrs. Webster summoned the party to dinner, 


236 


THE VISITORS. 


and Joe and Alice were among the first to 
respond, so curious were they to learn how 
such a great number of guests could be 
fed in the small kitchen. 

By dividing the boys into two parties the 
problem was easily solved, and the second 
division was not obliged to wait more than 
half an hour, so industrious with their knives 
and forks were those first served. 

After dinner the visitors, with Joe as 
guide, walked up the road to the scene of 
his escape from Guiseppe, and when they 
returned the shadows of night were begin- 
ning to fall. During their absence Alice 
had taken to the shed a sufficient number 
of candles to light up the lanterns, and 
the boys lost no time in carrying out a 
scheme which Slippey had devised during 
the ramble. 

“ When it gets real dark, an’ you hear a 
big shoutin’, all hands must look out of the 
window,” he said privately to Alice, and she 
repeated his instructions to Mr. and Mrs. 


THE VISITORS. 


237 


Webster, wondering not a little what specta- 
cle was to be arranged. 

In a very short time she was enlightened. 
When it was no longer possible to distin- 
guish surrounding objects because of the 
gloom, an outcry as “ big ” as twenty boys 
could make was heard from the front of the 
house, and then Slippey’s skill as a manager 
of spectacles was displayed. 

The lane appeared to be crowded with 
grinning, fiery faces which danced about 
in the most grotesque fashion. They ap- 
proached in one long line, and then re- 
treated ; hid the features of fire to flash 
them suddenly upon the spectators, or 
whirled around in a dizzy kind of waltz, 
causing the farmer and his wife quite as 
much amusement as it did Alice. 

During nearly an hour the revel of lan- 
terns continued, and then as the assistants 
grew tired, one by one crept into the kitchen 
until the whole party, decidedly weary with 
the first day’s work and play on a farm, 


238 


THE VISITORS. 


were gathered about the generous fire of 
wood which crackled and snapped a hearty 
welcome to all. 

A large bowl of milk with plenty of sweet, 
fresh bread made such a supper as was by 
no means to be despised, and then while 
Mrs. Webster plied her knitting-needles 
until they clicked most musically, the farmer 
adjusted his steel-bowed glasses as Alice 
brought the well-worn Book. 

This evening reading of God’s word was 
something novel to the majority, if not all of 
the visitors ; but they listened with profound 
attention, and a good many had queer lumps 
in their throats when the farmer asked so 
fervently of the Father that the hearts of the 
“ strangers within the gates ” might be in- 
clined to do His will. 

After this came the question of providing 
the boys with sleeping accommodations, and 
it was not as difficult as may be imagined. 
While they were walking up the road Mr. 
Webster had carried a quantity of blankets 


THE VISITORS. 


239 


and comfortables on to the mow, and it was 
only necessary for the guests to crawl under 
them, the odorous hay forming a most rest- 
inviting bed. 

What sport they had stowing themselves 
away for the night while Mr. Webster held 
the lantern ! Joe felt almost sorry because 
he was forced to return to his own cosey 
little room, and but for Mrs. Webster’s posi- 
tive injunctions to the contrary, he would 
have remained to share in the jolly time his 
friends would most certainly have. 

Even after he was in bed and both the 
farmer and his wife had looked in to assure 
themselves that the excitement of the day 
had done him no injury, he could hear the 
shouts and laughter of the visitors as they 
tumbled about on the novel bed. 

If the horses and cattle were not surprised 
at the unusual noise in the barn that night, 
they must have been next morning when 
Farmer Webster came to feed them, and 
every one of a perfect crowd of boys insisted 


240 


THE VISITORS. 


on adding something to the breakfast in 
the way of hay or disabled jack-a-lanterns, 
until the mangers were piled high with 
fodder. 

About ten o’clock the big wagon was 
brought out again and the horses harnessed. 
Then Alice and all the boys were driven to 
church, which was quite as much of a sur- 
prise as the evening’s devotions; but the 
service could not have been displeasing to 
them, at least, not in Bill Dunham’s case, 
for he whispered to Tom Brady as they 
emerged from the building: 

“ If I’d a’ thought that was all there is to 
it, I’d a’ sneaked in a good many times when 
I had pretty fair clothes on, for the music 
was jest stunnin’.” 

The remainder of the day was spent in a 
quiet way by walking over the farm, inspect- 
ing the stock, or listening to stories told by 
Mrs. Webster. Then came one more noisy, 
jolly night on the hay, and when Monday 
morning dawned the visitors were as unwill- 


THE VISITORS. 


24I 


ing to depart as they had been eager to 
make the visit. 

Both the farmer and his wife promised 
Slippey they would have “another party” 
in the spring, and that, together with the 
pumpkin lanterns and a goodly supply of 
apples and cake which was stowed away in 
the wagon, as well as the fact that Joe and 
Alice were to accompany the party as far as 
Jersey City, lessened the bitterness of part- 
ing considerably. 

As Little Joe is no longer friendless, and 
in view of the fact that Alice and Doctor 
share with him a home where they have 
every care and comfort, is it well to continue 
the story at the risk of being thought tire- 
some ? 

There have been but few changes since 
last November among the twenty newsboys 
who then had their first real experience of 
country life. 

During the winter Joe and Alice attended 


242 


THE VISITORS. 


school, and it can readily be understood how 
hard they, who had never such an opportu- 
nity before, studied. Joe will probably re- 
main on the farm this summer, for he is so 
strong as to be a great deal of assistance 
to Mr. and Mrs. Webster, and he insists on 
doing all he can toward at least paying the 
interest on the debt of gratitude he owes 
the farmer and his wife. Next fall, however, 
when the harvesting is finished, he will be 
hard at work over his books again, for one 
year from then he is to attend a certain 
school a short distance up the Hudson, and 
in due course of time — at least, such is the 
plan now — he will have the benefit of a full 
collegiate course. 

Shortly after Christmas he and Alice went 
to Mrs. Johnson’s in New York, intending 
to remain three days ; but when forty-eight 
hours had passed Mr. Webster came after 
them, excusing himself to Slippey’s mother 
for interrupting the visit, by saying : 

“We can’t let ’em stay away any longer. 


THE VISITORS. 


243 


It seems like the whole farm was lost since 
they came into town, an’ mother says she 
must have them both with her to-night. 
You see the children have grown so near 
to our old hearts that we need ’em every 
hour.” 

Joe and Alice were not quite as lonely as 
the farmer and his wife had been, because 
their time was fully occupied by pleasure ; 
but both were glad to return thus unexpect- 
edly to the home where they had been so 
warmly welcomed. 

During their visit they called upon Slip- 
pey and Tom in the new store which had 
been fitted up very neatly by the veterinary 
surgeon. That which most pleased them 
about the establishment was a pretentious- 
looking sign bearing in gilt letters the name 
of the firm 

Johnson & Brady. 

The merchants have a general stock of 
stationery, and are doing a flourishing busi- 


244 


THE VISITORS. 


ness, as Joe could well understand during 
the two hours he remained with them. The 
surgeon insisted on loaning the partners 
sufficient to buy goods enough to make a 
fine display, and Slippey is quite confident 
that by next September the debt will have 
been paid. 

“ If you get tired of the farm come back 
here an 1 Tom an' me will give you a share 
in all we own,” Slippey said, as the visitor 
bade him good-by, and although Joe thanked 
him kindly for the generous offer, he felt 
positive the time would never come when 
he would willingly leave the only parents he 
has ever known. 

Bill Dunham has taken the lumber-yard 
news-stand, and is prospering. Remember- 
ing his promise to Joe, he no longer tries to 
control trade in any one section of the city ; 
but is ever ready to aid a young merchant 
who needs assistance. The fact that he is 
frequently invited to spend the evening with 
the veterinary surgeon shows how decided a 


THE VISITORS. 


245 


change must have come over him since that 
night when he and his friends attempted to 
drive Joe out of the news-vending business. 

On the occasion of Joe's visit Tonio took 
a holiday and spent it in visiting familiar 
places with the boy who had been instru- 
mental in freeing him from old Marcos 
power. The_ little Italian now attends a 
night-school, and fancies that the day is 
not far distant when he will own a fruit 
store of his own, for he has deposited from 
one to two dollars in the bank each week 
since the Society for the Prevention of 
Cruelty to Children obtained for him his 
present employment. 

Dick White is the only boy about whom 
it is impossible to give any further informa- 
tion. From the time he insisted on being 
paid for taking Joe’s message to Slip and 
Tom, none of his acquaintances have seen 
him ; but the general impression is that he 
ran away to sea, for that always seemed to 
be his highest ambition. If he did do so 


246 


THE VISITORS. 


there has been plenty of time for him to 
repent taking such a rash step, and he has 
undoubtedly regretted it every day since 
leaving port. 

Mr and Mrs. Webster are both well, and 
just as lovable, charitable and good as when 
Joe and Alice were first welcomed to their 
happy home, and when they are finally sum- 
moned to go down into the valley across the 
dark river, no petitions from mortals in their 
behalf will be needed, for all the angels will 
be waiting to greet them, whose “ delight 
has ever been in the law of the Lord.” 








'a 























\ 









I 

































Dorothy Thorn is a lirst-class American novel. 

By which we do not mean to declare the authoi 
a Walter Scott on his second book. The world 
may take its time and rate him as it will; but 
Dorothy Thorn we are sure of. 

It begins as life begins, wherever we pick up 
the threads of it, human. It goes on the same. 
The tale is a sketch of not-surprising events. 
There is not an incident told in the book that does 
not seem tame in the telling, tame with the unro- 
mantic commonplace of life ; and yet there is not 
a spot where the people forget their parts or hesi- 
tate for words or fail to suit the action to them : 
and, however easy the pages, the chapters move 
with conscious strength; and toe whole is one; 
it falls with the force of a blow. 

There is a moral to Dorothy Thorn ; there are 
more than one. She is made to live for something 
beyond the reader’s diversion. What that purpose 
is, or what those purposes are, is not set down in 
the book ; but nobody reads and asks. It is high 
in the sense of being good ; and good in the sense 
of being successfuL It touches the question of 
questions, work ; and the wisdom comes from two 
women who do not work. It touches never so 
lightly the rising question, the sphere of woman — 
the wisdom on that is said in a dozen words by a 
woman who has never given her “sphere” an 
anxious thought. 

Dorothy Thorn of Thornton. By Julian Wartli. 276 pages. 
12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

There is hardly a less promising condition out 
of which to write a novel than having a hobby to 
ride ; and of hobbies what can be less picturesque 
than the question how we who work and we who 
direct are going to get on together harmoniously f 

t ’ 


A pleasant small edition of Bunyan’s Pilgrim's 
Progress (410 pages), is in the Golden Treasury 
series, uniform with 
Thomas a Kempis’s Imitation of Christ (285 pages) 

Baxter’s Saints’ Rest (288 pages) 

Tholuck’s Hours of Devotion (316 pages) tad Macduff's 
Mind and Words of Jesus (316 pages). 

The bindings are neat and perfectly plain, gilt 
titles and tops. Each 16mo, cloth, $1.00, 


The author of Possibilities has written another 
story for boys of how a little six-year-old waif of 
the street grew into a good and prosperous man. 

Only Me. By Rev. Thomas L. Baily. 296 pages. 12mo, 
cloth, $1.25. 

The story is easy enough all through to catch 
and keep the wandering thoughts of the boys for 
whom it is written. They are not experienced 
readers. They skip whole books if written over 
their head, or under. 


The man who wrote ‘‘Ten Acres Enough” 
ought to know how to keep country boys in the 
country where, as a rule, they are worth the most 
and will fare the best. He writes a story for 
them. 

Farming for Boys. By the author cf Ten Acres Enough. 
286 pages; illustrated. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

A handy little old man in the story sets out to 
show the boys how to make it interesting. Things 
are rather dull at first; but he understands boy 
nature as well as farming; and, under the guise 
of keeping them busy, he teaches them dozens of 
things that farmers ought to know, but generally 
don’t. Eight here is the use of the book. It is 
a regular treatise on farming. They actually get 
to talking of wealth before they ai t done with it. 


The praise of a book of tra T . el Is rightly held to 
be “It is next to the journey itself.” 

Some Things Abroad. By Rev. Alexander McKenzie, 
D. D. 450 pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.50. 

You sit by your evening lamp and read, as if 
from the letters of a friend, the record of his 
daily experiences. He sees the north and south 
of Europe, via Constantinople into Asia, the Holy 
Land, etc. 

As^in the case of friendly letters, your enjoy- 
ment in reading depends on the writer’s geniality 
quite as much as on the news he has to tell of his 
wanderings. What could be more agreeable than 
to be taken thus to the far-off haunts of seekers 
after knowledge and pleasure without the toilsome 
goings and waitings and coming back at the end 
of it all. You have the shade of your own home 
trees in the hot afternoon and delicious sleep in 
your own home bed and the sound of your break- 
fast bell in the morning; nevertheless you have 
seen Some Things Abroad and talked them over 
delightfully. You probably know quite as much 
about them as many who bear the tossings and 
dust and tossings again of a journey a quarter 
round the world. For our part we ask no better 
company. Dr. McKenzie tells it off so gayly, we 
can hardly believe in the hardships of seeing. 

The book has the air of talking over the day in 
the cool of the evening, only two or three of us 
there. 

Garland from the Poets, selection of short 
miscellaneous poems by Coventry Patmore, with 
not a word of comment or explanation beyond the 
poets’ names. 250 pages, 128 poems. 16mo, cloth, 
75 cents. 


In 1833 the wife of Horace Mann spent the 
winter in Cuba under circumstances extremely 
favorable to an intimate knowledge of life there ; 
but was under a double restraint from making a 
book, a close and sympathetic friendship and nu- 
merous hospitalities. 

Nevertheless the book was written, but kept for 
fifty years till the death of the last of her friends 
who figured in it 

Juanita, a Romance of Real Life in Cuba Fifty Ye^rs Ago. 
By Mary Mann (wife of Horace Mann, sister of Mrs. Haw- 
thorne and of the venerable Elizabeth Peabody). 436 pages. 
12mo, cloth, $1.60. 

It is less a romance than a fragment of history ; 
less a history than an impassioned picture of hu- 
man life above and below incredible greed and 
cruelty ; less a picture than protest. And, coming 
at this late day when freedom has blessed both 
slave and master, it gives a new zest to liberty. 
It draws the reader from page to page not so 
much by the arts and resources of fiction as by an 
overmastering sympathy. 

It is not another Uncle Tom’s Cabin; and the 
times are kindlier. But the book must be read. 


A writer who keeps his name to himself ha^ 
been telling his children what heraldry had to do 
with our stars and stripes, with the seals of the 
United States, and of the States themselves. “ It 
occurred to him” — what are we not indebted to 
children for? — “ that heraldry, brilliant with mem- 
ories of tournaments and hard-won victories, 
might interest ” other youngsters. Hence a play- 
ful book of careful enough research into heraldic 
history, legends, usages, meanings, proprieties. 

Dame Heraldry 117 illustrations, 271 pages. 8vo, cloth, 
fS. 60. 


Quite a new sort of history. School days over, 
four girl friends return to their homes and life 
begins. As often happens, life is not as they 
picture it. What it was for the four and how 
they met it you shall read in the quiet book. 

After School Days. By Christina Goodwin. 196 page*. 
12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

It is a comforting fact a thousand times that 
nobody knows, to be sure of it, what is good for 
him or her. Disappointments are often shorn of 
their bitterness by the remembrance of it. Often 
what we look forward to, hope for, strive for, 
make ourselves anxious about, turns out to be of 
no particular value ; and what we fear and strive 
against turns out good fortune. Rarely is this 
practical wisdom made so sure as in this whole- 
some history out of the stuff that dreams are 
made of. 


A practical help for a girl to surround herself 
with pleasant things without much shopping. The 
book is mainly filled with ways to exercise taste 
on waste or picked-up things for use with an eye 
to decoration as well. 

For a Girl’s Room. By Some Friends of the Girls. 236 
pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

A friendly sort of a book to fill odd minutes, 
whether at home or out, for herself or another. 
By no means on “fancy-work” — not all work — 
Chapter XXI is How to Tame Birds and XXV is 
What to Do in Emergencies. 


Can you imagine a more welcome visPor than a 
civilized Chinaman with the recollections of the 
flowery land still fresh, but seeing with our eyes 
and estimating by our weights and measures, and 
gifted with a tolerable English tongue? 

When I was a Boy in China. By Y an Phou Lee. 112 page* 
16mo. cloth, 60 cents. 

The author, grandson of a mandarin, son of a 
merchant, born in ’61, went to the Government 
School at Shanghai, and in ’73 was chosen one of 
the thirty sent to the United States to be educa- 
ted. 

He writes on : Infancy ; House and Household ; 
Cookery ; Games and Pastimes ; Girls of My Ac- 
quaintance; School and School-life; Religions; 
Holidays; Stories and Story-tellers (gives a speci- 
men story) ; How I Went to Shanghai; How I 
Prepared for America ; First Experiences. 

The narrative is personal. Jumps right Into 
it. Tells of himself as a baby, of course from 
knowledge of what happens to boy babies there. 
Illustrates Lowell’s commendation of President 
Lincoln’s English — “ strikes but once and so well 
that he needn’t strike but once.” An easy writer, 
graceful enough, but quick and done with it; full 
of his subject, and yet not over-fond; impatient 
lest his reader tire. He need not hurry. We are 
eager listeners, not at all critical. 

An American boy of twelve beginning life in the 
heart of China and writing a book at twenty-six 
“ When I was a Boy in America ” would indeed b* 
a remarkable man to write so well ! 

May Yan Phou Lee have a million readers! 


There is nothing more refreshing to pick up in 
odd minutes than a bright collection out of the 
uoetry of all time of the brightest on almost no 
matter what subject, even the weather. 

Through the Year with the Poets, edited by Oscar Fay 
Adams. A volume a month of about 140 pages each, with 
ample indices. 16mo, cloth, 75 cents each; parti-colored cloth, 
$ 1 . 00 . 

And dainty book-making has much to do with 
the pleasure of scrappy reading. 

New Every Morning, a year-book for girls, by 
Annie H. Ryder, is a helpful thought or two, out of 
current writers mainly, for every day in the year ; 
not religious, but chosen for serious aptitude to 
the state of things in the world we live in. 19$ 
pages. Square 16mo, cloth. $1.00 

Notable Prayers of Christian History. By Hez- 
ekiah Butterworth. So far as we k.iow, there is 
no other book in which are gathered the notable 
prayers of devout men of all times with their 
biographical and historical connections. 304 pages. 
16mo, cloth, 1.00. 

Let not the bookseller venture a word on so ab- 
struse a subject as Browning. 

Christmas Eve and Easter Day, and Other Poems. By 
Robert Browning. Introduction by W. J. Rolfe. The Theory 
of Robert Browning concerning Personal Immortality by 
Ileloisc Edwina Hersey. With notes. 175pag‘.s. 16u*>, cloth, 
75 cents. 

For Browning Classes and Clubs. The text is 
in very generous type. 

Faith and Action is an F. D. Maurice Anthology. 
Preface by Phillips Brooks. The subjects are: 
Life, Men, Reforms, Books, Art, Duty, Aspira* 
iion, Faith. 269 pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 


How to Cook Well is promising title. The au- 
thor, J. Rosalie Benton. We light on this sen- 
tence on breakfast: “Yet in how many families 
is it the custom to send the master of the house 
to his daily round of business with an unsatisfied 
feeling after partaking of a hurried meal alto- 
gether unpalatable ! ” That is still more promis- 
ing. There are 400 pages of performance. 12mo, 
cloth, $1.50. 

One of the ways to get some notions of thing* 
Into young folks’ heads without any work on their 
part is to tell them stories and weave in the 
knowledge. 

Another way is to make a book of such stories. 
The book has the advantage of the story-teller. 
It can be full of pictures ; and one can be more 
careful in making a book than in talking. If his 
memory slips a little, he can stop and hunt up the 
facts. 

Story Book of 8cience. By Lydia Hoyt Farmer. Illus- 
trated. 330 pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.50. 

There are twenty different stories and seventy 
five pictures. A surprising number of bits of 
knowledge are woven and pictured in; and the 
book is as light and easy as if it were nonsense. 

There’s so much to know nowadays. Children 
have to begin before they know it. 


Waifs and their Authors is a collection, by A. 
A. Hopkins, of poetry worthy of preservation, 
mainly out of newspapers and by living writers 
not yet ranked as Poets — with notes, personal, 
biographical, critical, genial always, under twenty* 
one names. 317 pages. 


The Family Flights, by Edward Everett Hale 
and Susan Hale, are a series of book journeys 
through the several countries with eyes and ears 
wide open, old eyes and young eyes, and ears. The 
books are full of pictures, and fuller of knowl- 
edge not only of what is going on but what has 
gone on ever since book-making began, and fuller 
>et of brightness and interest. You see the old as 
old ; but you see it ; you see where it was and the 
marks it left. You see the new with eyes made 
sharper by knowledge of what has gone on in the 
world. 

In other words these books amount to some- 
thing like going through these places with a trav- 
eling-companion who knows all about them and 
their histories. 

They are written and pictured for boys and 
girls : but there is nothing to hinder the old folks 
going along. Will you go? 

Family Flight through France, Germany, Norway and 
Switzerland. 405 pages. 

Family Flight over Egypt and Syria. 388 pages. 

Family Flight through Spain. 360 pages. 

Family Flight around Home (which means about Boston/ 
866 pages. 

Family Flight through Mexico. 300 pages. 

Each 8vo, boards, $1.75 ; cloth, $2.25. 

One of the most effective means of exciting 
and satisfying zeal for knowledge of the world we 
have in books. 

A good book for young folks is Ned Mel- 
bourne’s Mission, not too good to have a spice of 
life and adventure, but with that indirect influence 
for good thinking and good doing that is more 
potent than a sermon to young people. 

Ned Melbourne’s Mission. 12mo, cloth, $1.50. 


Never were easier stories told than the Cats* 
Arabian Nights. If Pussyanita lives till the chil- 
dren tire of reading or hearing them read, she will 
live to be very old indeed. They softened King 
Grimalkum and saved the lives of Pussyanita and 
all the rest of the cats. 

Cats’ Arabian Nights ; or King Grimalkum and Pussyanita. 
By Abby Morton Biaz. 227 quarto pages and full of cat 
pictures. 8yo, boards, $1.25. 

Mrs. Diaz puts most wonderful wisdom into 
nonsense, and nobody gives it the credit of seri- 
ousness. It takes the wisdom underneath to give 
it the fizz. 


A Book of Golden Deeds of All Times and Lands 
is a series of fifty tales of heroic and noble actions 
culled out of history by Charlotte M. Yonge “for 
the young, and intelligent uneducated people ” by 
which the learned author means not for historians. 
“Enough of the surrounding events have in gen- 
eral been given to make the situation comprehen- 
sible, even without knowledge of the general 
history.” And “there is a cloud of doubt,” she 
says in her preface, “resting on a few of the 
tales, which it may be honest to mention, though 
they were far too beautiful not too tell.” 466 
pages including a time-table. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 


Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical 
Poems in the English Language, by Francis Tur- 
ner Palgrave, differs from other collections in the 
attempt to include in it all the best, and none be- 
side the best, by writers not living when the col- 
lection was begun. As the distinguished Editor 
rightly says in his preface, it would obviously 
have been invidious to apply this standard to the 
living. 405 pages, including notes and indices. 
16mo, cloth, $1.00. 








